Silver Wanderer
by Galorin
Summary: During the War of the Ring, the decision is made to evacuate Lothlorien, and Haldir's quiet wife is chosen to lead them to safety. Chapter 15, the road takes its toll on Silraen and Orophin.
1. Thunder in the Distance

Disclaimer: The setting, characters, and languages belong to the Tolkien estate. I make no money from this story.  
  
Silver Wanderer  
  
Chapter 1: Thunder in the Distance  
  
The trees of Lothlorien were whispering to each other, leaning in to mumble of darkness and pain. Evil was coming, it vibrated through the earth and up their roots and the trees were afraid. The forest filled with the chattering and murmuring of branches clacking and young leaves fluttering, shade and light exchanging places in a dizzying dance of green and yellow on the forest floor. Their voices, like the faintest hint of a breeze, spread in all directions, asking,  
  
"Do you feel it?"  
  
"Is it close?"  
  
"Could it really be true?"  
  
Silraen grunted as her hoe impacted a rock. She stooped to pick it up, but froze. She cocked her head, faintly hearing the talk of the trees around her. She glanced up, only to have the trees stop abruptly, the sound replaced with thick silence. Then, the trees moved a bit, with artificial nonchalance, trying to fool her into thinking they kept nothing from her.  
  
"Fine," she grumbled, "Be that way."  
  
She looked at the rock in her hand and then tossed it half-heartedly into the forest. It thumped off of a tree trunk and Silraen smirked with satisfaction. As she went back to hoeing a long trench through the field, two of her workers exchanged a look that said, "Mirkwood elves, always talking to trees. . ."  
  
But, Silraen's brow was still furrowed with concern. It was like that more and more, nature seemed to hum with a nervous foreboding as darkness pressed in on the borders of Lorien. She gouged more viciously at the black earth, but paused as the image of her husband's face flashed before her eyes.  
  
Haldir. Her foul mood that day was little to do with the merciless sun beating down on her or the slow progress made on this field and more to do with Haldir's absence. His patrol should have returned three days ago. Three days and no word.  
  
Sixty years they had been married and it had never really gotten easier to watch him go. But, soldiering was all he knew, it was an inseparable part of him. His recent promotion to high captain had been a source of both pride and anxiety for his quiet wife.  
  
They made quite the odd pair, really; Silraen, the plain fieldworker and Haldir the magnificent captain. Silraen had been born to Silvan parents in Mirkwood. Her father was a wanderer by nature. Even the land of Mirkwood proved too tame for him after a time, and his wife and young son and daughter followed him all over the wildlands. He believed such a life was closer to the old ways of the Nandor, roaming freely across Arda, always exploring and restless. Finally, on the side of some nameless mountain, Arda had claimed him back. A warg had attacked and killed her father, and whatever he had been searching for would remain unfound.  
  
Silraen's mother and two now-grown children went to Lothlorien, where Silraen's grandmother had been born. The city had been too stuffy and confining for her mother and brother, and both had returned to Thranduil's realm. Silraen had stayed, for Haldir, and worked in the fields and the Lady's orchards. She was head fieldworker now, a sort of "Captain of Gardeners" as Haldir put it, and she loved watching the cycle of growth and harvest across the passage of each year.  
  
Seeding fields on a gorgeous spring day brought her strangely little comfort at the moment. For, Haldir's absence caused anxiety not only to Silraen, but also to their three small children. *What a time to start a family,* Silraen thought wryly, *Sauron couldn't have waited until they were grown to rise again?*  
  
She could hear the trees clamoring nervously again at the edge of the field, and sensed a word here and there, snippets of their malcontent.  
  
"Burning. . ."  
  
"Mordor. . ."  
  
"Closing in. . ."  
  
". . .not much longer."  
  
Silraen closed her eyes for a moment and added a quiet plea to the chorus of hushed voices, "Haldir, come home."  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir wearily climbed the spiraling stairs to his home as thick raindrops fell from the leaves above and pelted his face. It was after midnight, and he stepped carefully so as not to wake his wife and children. As he reached their talan and stood facing the door, he took a deep, steadying breath, trying to dispel the grimness that he knew dominated his features. The things he had witnessed while patrolling the borders greatly troubled the captain, but he did not wish to alarm his family.  
  
As Haldir pushed open the door, he stopped short at the sight before him. Silraen was asleep in the ornately carved rocking chair that they had received as a gift when Halnorel was born. In her left arm was the baby, and on her right side lay Taurnan, dozing peacefully. Sitting on the floor with her head on Silraen's knee was Halnorel. Silraen's shining yellow hair was in disarray about her shoulders, the faint red of sunburn coloring her high cheekbones. They all looked so beautiful and tranquil that Haldir's chest tightened, love for them washing through his veins like a cleansing balm. After the long toil of his patrol, seeing his family safe and happy drained the tension from his body.  
  
Silraen's head shot up as she sensed someone enter the room. Her face softened as she saw Haldir standing in the doorway, soaking wet and watching them with a gentle smile. She looked down at the children and back up at him with a shrug. He nearly laughed and went to disentangle her from the three elflings.  
  
Haldir lifted Halnorel, his older daughter, in one arm and his boy Taurnan in the other, their small blond heads resting against his shoulders. He carried them effortlessly to their room and settled each in their bed. As he drew the covers over Halnorel, she awoke.  
  
"Daddy!" she called, her small face alight with joy.  
  
"Shhh. . . honey, you'll wake Taurnan. But, I'm glad to see you too." He hugged the little girl to him and she sloppily kissed his cheek. "Good night, Halnorel," Haldir whispered. Silraen had put their baby daughter, Danuriel, in her crib across the room and Haldir stopped for a moment and brushed his knuckles over her smooth cheek. She was a beautiful child, with a round, chubby face and enormous blue eyes. Even Celeborn admitted she was the most adorable baby ever seen in Lothlorien, outshining even Celebrian, who had been a legendarily beautiful baby. Haldir swept the fine white hair from her forehead and left her to her dreams. He then entered his and Silraen's bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.  
  
Silraen was looking out the window, vigorously shaking her right arm. "It's raining hard. I will have to check the fields in the morning and see if we need to reseed."  
  
"What are you doing?" Haldir asked, looking pointedly at her arm.  
  
"My arm fell asleep while Taurnan was laying on it."  
  
"Now you know how I feel. You always lay on my right arm and it falls asleep." Haldir joked.  
  
Silraen looked slightly horrified. "Sixty years and you never bothered to tell me? Next time, shove me off of you."  
  
"I don't really mind it," Haldir said with an easy grin.  
  
Silraen laughed and crossed the room, looping her arms around Haldir's waist and resting her cheek on his chest. "Silraen, I'm wet and dirty, you don't want to hug me."  
  
"Yes, I do," she answered simply. Finally, Haldir wrapped his arms around Silraen and held her quietly. He could not remember how many times he had come home in the middle of the night, filthy and tired, and always Silraen welcomed him home with a serene smile and open arms. He knew she feared for him when he was away, but she dealt with those feelings gracefully, and had never once tried to make him feel guilty for leaving her. But, he did feel guilty. Every time.  
  
Reluctantly, Silraen pulled away from Haldir. Her pale blue eyes were stormy as she looked up at him. "The children came in while I was feeding Danuriel and wanted to stay here with me. Even they sense the evil that is descending upon us. It grows nearer every day, can you not feel it?"  
  
Haldir sighed, his normally beautiful face marred with concern. "Yes, I feel it too," He gently released Silraen and crossed the room, beginning to remove his sweaty armor. Without a word, Silraen moved to help him. As she lifted the heavy plates of armor that covered his shoulders, Haldir drew in a quick breath.  
  
"What's wrong?" Silraen asked.  
  
"Nothing," Haldir assured. Silraen was not so easily deterred.  
  
"Let me take a look." As she unbuttoned his shirt, she struggled to keep her features calm. "You were attacked?"  
  
"Yes," Haldir admitted, "By a band of orcs."  
  
Silraen led him to the bed and had him sit near the lantern so she could treat the gash on the back of his shoulder. As her careful hands bandaged his wound, Haldir sighed in resignation. "This was the worst incident yet. There are more orcs than ever prowling the borders and it seems and endless stream of them pour out of Moria each night. I fear even the powers of our Lord and Lady will not be enough to stem this tide. Being Captain of the Guard of Lorien has been an easy job up until now, I have to admit that. But, no longer. We will soon find out if I fail the test of real command."  
  
Silraen's hands stilled in their ministrations. She took Haldir's chin between her fingers and turned his face toward her. She met his eyes steadily as she said, "You are a great warrior and a great leader, Haldir. You will not fail. All of Lorien has faith in you to protect us, why can't you believe it too?"  
  
Haldir smiled sadly, "You are strong, Silraen. I take my strength from you. It is you Lorien should honor."  
  
Silraen snorted, "A sunburned fieldworker? I am not exactly the type they hold feasts to celebrate." She went to the wardrobe and began digging for dry clothes for Haldir.  
  
He frowned at her back, "Why do you say things like that, Silraen? You know that what you do is just as important as what I do."  
  
Silraen just shook her head and returned with a shirt and a pair of pants for him, "You will get chilled if you do not change."  
  
Haldir was too tired to argue. But, he looked up at her for a lingering second, and caught a flash of shame and pain in her eyes. He knew there was nothing he could say to her to convince her of her worth. Dropping the clothes onto the bed, he stood and towered over Silraen for a moment. Then, his face descended on hers and he kissed her fully and slowly. The warmth of his lips on hers was both comforting and thrilling. Her hands rose to the firm muscles of his chest as the kiss deepened.  
  
Silraen reluctantly broke away, knowing that her husband was exhausted. She dropped away from him and busied herself turning back the covers. Haldir looked at the bed and had to admit that sleep beckoned him.  
  
When finally he lay down with Silraen and extinguished the lantern, he heard her whisper, "If I roll over on you arm, just push me off."  
  
Haldir laughed and pulled her to him, "Numb limbs are small price to pay for the privilege of holding you."  
  
Silraen fell into slumber with a smile on her lips. No one else could make her feel as revered as Haldir did.  
  
* * *  
  
Sometime in the deepest part of the night, Haldir and Silraen were woken by soft weeping and a tiny body scrambling between them. Haldir gathered Halnorel close, brushing tears from her frightened face with his thumbs. She was easily the most reserved of their children, and seeing her so upset alarmed him. "Did you have a bad dream, Little One?"  
  
"It-it was like a bad dream, but I was awake. I tried to close my eyes, but even then I could still see." She dissolved into tears again and Haldir cradled her against his chest. "I saw a-a creature with wings. It screamed. And a mallorn was burning and elves were falling. There were ugly, dark creatures on the ground."  
  
Haldir and Silraen shared a look over the child's head, concern darkening both of their faces. Halnorel had had many moments of strange sight in the past year, but none so disturbing as this. Before it had been small things, names and events she couldn't possibly know, dreaming things that would happen the next day. This was much more sinister.  
  
The girl's sobs had quieted, and Silraen and Haldir tucked her securely between them. Silraen took Haldir's hand were it rested on the child's arm. She interlaced her fingers with his. She suddenly felt she needed the comfort of his strong presence as much as Halnorel did. 


	2. Intrusion

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1  
  
Chapter 2: Intrusion  
  
The first clean rays of the dawn broke into the room and across Haldir's face, diffused by the gauzy curtains. He looked down and saw his daughter, Halnorel, was beginning to wake. The fear he had felt at her episode a few hours earlier dissipated a little in the gleam of the sunlight. Maybe she had just had a bad dream.  
  
Haldir rose and lifted Halnorel. She wrapped her fragile arms around his neck and dropped her head to his shoulder. Rubbing her back, he walked to the window, where he leaned on the sill.  
  
Halnorel's tiny voice broke into his musing.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Will you leave again soon?"  
  
Haldir cast his eyes out the window, pain lancing through his chest. "Yes. I'm sorry, little one." He looked down at the floor, but felt her hand on his cheek. He met her dark blue eyes, a mirror image of his own.  
  
"It's all right, Daddy. As long as you come home."  
  
Haldir smiled sadly at the girl, kissing her forehead.  
  
Silraen had watched the exchange from the bed and bit her lip, feeling her chest tighten. She loved Haldir so much. And, since they had first had children, Silraen had discovered a new level of feelings for Haldir. Watching the gentle devotion of Haldir the father, as opposed to the stoic control of Haldir the soldier, left Silraen thanking the Valar he was hers.  
  
But, the baby soon began wailing and a crash that was surely Taurnan's doing erupted from the other room. The moment was shattered, the golden light dropping away from Haldir and Halnorel as reality intruded. Silraen bolted from her bed and rushed into the other room. Taurnan's nose was bleeding, his lip quivering with unshed tears. She didn't even bother to ask how it had happened. Surely he had been swinging in the rafters, which he had taken to of late, or jumping from his bed to his sister's. She had never known an elfling who got into half the mischief her son did. Danuriel's cries rose in pitch, the keening shredding into Silraen's ears.  
  
"Haldir," she yelled, all trace of her earlier sentimentality gone. Where were his paternal talents when she really needed them?  
  
Silraen pressed a handkerchief to Taurnan's nose and lifted him on one hip. As Danuriel paused for a breath, Silraen heard an unfamiliar voice followed by the faint sound of Haldir's deeper voice. To Silraen's amazement, Lord Celeborn appeared in the doorway. Celeborn looked both strong and wise, a combination Silraen had always thought only Celeborn could balance so perfectly. He wore dark blue robes embroidered with stars, his gleaming silver hair cast across broad shoulders.  
  
Silraen dropped quickly to one knee, an awkward motion with an elfling clutched to her side. She bowed her head, her blond hair brushing the wooden floor. She frowned, waiting for someone to say something, but then she noticed it. . .silence. Slowly lifting her eyes, Silraen saw that Celeborn had lifted Danuriel from her crib and was making faces at her, gently rocking the child held safe in his large, graceful hands.  
  
With care bordering on reverence, Celeborn set the baby back in her crib. A contented giggle and she drifted back to sleep. Celeborn turned now to Silraen and Taurnan.  
  
"Silraen, how long have you lived in this realm? How long have you been in the employ of my wife and I? But, still you act like a guest in our lands. You need not bow before me. Greet me as a friend and neighbor, not as a ruler."  
  
Silraen rose and Taurnan wriggled from her embrace and scurried away, his injury already forgotten. Celeborn watched as the child brushed past him, the elf lord's eyes twinkling with amusement.  
  
Haldir joined them, shaking his head. He stood just behind Silraen. "It's his Mirkwood blood that makes him so wild, you know that don't you?"  
  
Silraen drove an elbow back at her husband's stomach, but he easily dodged the blow. He had learned a thing or two over six decades with Silraen.  
  
A grin twitched at the corners of Celeborn's proud mouth. "Shall I summon your brothers?" Celeborn addressed his captain.  
  
"No, my lord, I will fetch them."  
  
Celeborn's sharp gaze was drawn down. He watched as Halnorel shuffled over to them, reaching up to slip her hand into her father's rough palm. A flash of sadness filled Celeborn's gaze. He looked back up, nodding farewell to them both before he turned from them with a swishing of fine robes.  
  
It was then that Silraen knew. This had not been a social call. Celeborn was summoning Haldir away again. *That didn't take long.* Silraen thought, the venom in those words surprising even her. With a soft sigh, Silraen took Halnorel's thin shoulders in her hands and steered the child away.  
  
"Taurnan!" she bellowed, "Get in here so we can get you ready to go to grandmother's."  
  
A blur of golden hair and green tunic crossed the room and Taurnan launched himself at Silraen. He wrapped his arms around her neck, dangling from her back. Silraen laughed, shaking the boy off and catching him around the waist. She tickled his stomach and he squealed with laughter. Even Halnorel joined the fray and they were soon a giggling pile of flailing limbs.  
  
"Mirkwood blood," Haldir mumbled, shaking his head and leaving them to their play. He entered his own room and stared down at his armor with a cold frown. Never had he been so reluctant to don it. Celeborn had borne a message from Galadriel that he was to go to the border to escort a party of travelers. It was beginning. Haldir was unsure how he knew, but this cryptic mission was special somehow. . . and dark.  
  
He was nearly dressed when Silraen joined him. She plucked his quiver from its place in the corner and went to him. As she strapped it across his chest, he refused to meet her eyes, his mouth drawn tight.  
  
"Haldir," she whispered. When his gaze finally rested on her, the apprehension and pain in his eyes stole her breath.  
  
"Haldir," she said on a soft exhalation, "What is it?"  
  
"Have you been shooting lately?" he asked.  
  
The question surprised Silraen and a look of confusion twisted her face. "Yes, just yesterday. But, why—"  
  
"Good," Haldir said shortly.  
  
Silraen drew away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, the morning suddenly seeming cold. "Is it really that dire?"  
  
Haldir regretted his curtness, realizing he had frightened Silraen. He stepped to Silraen and pulled her back to his chest, clutching her hands in his. His armor came between them, an unyielding barrier to the contact they both needed. "I'm sorry. Do not be afraid. I just-I just want to know that you are prepared, should-should something go wrong."  
  
"I have seen dark lands and dark times," Silraen said quietly, "I have traveled these lands from one horizon to the other. But never has it been like this. The waiting. . .the helpless waiting. We all know something comes for us, but we know not what. It sucks the joy from this place, whisks it away on the wind—"  
  
Haldir turned her in his embrace, more roughly than he intended so that she fell back against his arm.  
  
"No, Silraen," he choked out, "Do not let these things take your happiness from you. Tend your crops and care for our babies and live your life. I will do all that is in my power to see that this evil does not touch you. I will die before I let that happen."  
  
Silraen shook her head, wincing, "Don't say that."  
  
"I would," he said with solid sincerity, "If only to save you and the children from a moment of pain."  
  
"Well, I would prefer if you didn't."  
  
Haldir smiled, a whisper of an expression, tired and sad. He kissed her then, his mouth desperate, demanding as it moved over hers. Silraen's arms looped over his neck, pulling him close.  
  
When Haldir finally pulled away, breathless, he pressed Silraen's head to his chest. He kissed her hair and silently raged against the fates. Just as he had found true joy in Silraen and their children, the darkness threatened to take it all away. But, they gave him something to fight for. And he would fight.  
  
* * *  
  
As Haldir and Silraen crossed the carved walkway between two trees, she glanced around at the tree city, seeing it stir to life in the early morning light. Silraen was leading Halnorel by the hand as Haldir carried the baby. Taurnan scampered ahead, energetic as always. Silraen looked down, about to comment to Halnorel about a bright red bird singing in the branches. But, Silraen frowned, finding her child frozen in place, her large blue eyes transfixed on something in the distance. Silraen's heart twisted in fear that Halnorel was having another vision, such as her terrifying one from the night before. But, following the path of her child's gaze, she saw on another talan Lady Galadriel. The Lady looked hauntingly beautiful in a shimmering white gown, her hair cast down her back, the same rich gold as mallorn leaves in fall. To Silraen's shock, the Lady was staring right back up at them. . .no, not them, just Halnorel. Galadriel's eyes were troubled, amazed. Time ground to a stop as they stared at one another, silent energy crackling through the air between that which was ancient and that which was young. Shaking off her astonishment, Silraen swung the child up in her arms and hurried away, discomfort at the eerie exchange turning her stomach. But, even as they continued toward Haldir's mother's home, she could feel Halnorel shift around in her embrace to stare over her shoulder at Galadriel, her tiny lips parted in awe.  
  
Silraen could feel Galadriel's piercing blue gaze on the back of her own head now, boring into her. She tried to keep the Lady out of her thoughts, walling off her mind by sheer will. But, the whisper of Galadriel's melodious voice intruded, "The girl has a gift."  
  
Frustration and confusion at all that was happening around her flared in Silraen's mind. With irrational protectiveness, Silraen focused her thoughts, shooting back into Galadriel's mind a simple command. "Stay away from my daughter."  
  
Silraen had finally disappeared into her mother-in-law's house and did not witness Galadriel stagger backwards, as if reeling from a physical blow.  
  
"Hmm. . ." Galadriel murmured, "That's not usually a two-way connection."  
  
Galadriel rubbed her throbbing temples and gazed out over the forest with narrowed eyes. It would seem she had underestimated her gardener.  
  
* * * *  
  
Thank you so much to my wonderful reviewers, Tigerlily and Puxinette!! 


	3. Legacy

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1.  
  
Chapter 3: Legacy  
  
"Good morning, Mother," Haldir greeted, bending low to kiss Miradhel on the cheek. She smiled at her favorite son before kneeling to gather Taurnan and Halnorel into her arms for a quick hug. She cared for the children while Silraen worked in the orchards or fields and clearly reveled in the chore.  
  
Silraen hung back, watching Miradhel with a weak smile. Haldir's mother was exceptionally beautiful, with fair skin and pale hair that hung past her waist. She was also a tiny creature, leaving the tall Silraen feeling awkward and ungainly beside her. Silraen glanced down at her own plain working clothes and callused hands and back at the glowing she-elf now cradling Danuriel in her arms. Silraen had always wondered how she had been allowed into this family, and what Miradhel thought about the son she adored marrying one so common. But, Miradhel had never once made Silraen feel unwanted, not even with a single displeased glance. This only made Silraen feel more inadequate. Even Miradhel's spirit was pure!  
  
"Why so serious, Little Sister?" Orophin, Haldir's brother asked, sidling up to her. He still lived with Miradhel, while Rumil, the youngest, had recently married and lived at the edge of the city.  
  
Silraen debated whether or not to confide in Orophin. Casting a sidelong glance at the elf, always quiet and dependable, with a laughing glint lurking in his green eyes, she knew that she could trust him.  
  
"It's Halnorel." Silraen dropped her voice to a halting whisper, "She. . . she came to us crying last night. She had a vision about the city burning and such things. . . things too dark for a child's eyes."  
  
Orophin's attention was turned fully on her now, his face troubled.  
  
"Please don't tell your mother," Silraen asked, "It will only worry her."  
  
"Of course," Orophin murmured, looking curiously at the little girl, who seemed perfectly content now, already rummaging through the box of toys kept in the corner.  
  
Halnorel looked up, regarding her uncle with an innocent gaze. "Did it hurt when the horse stepped on you?" Halnorel asked.  
  
Orophin's eyes tightened, a perplexed look crossing his features. "What did you say?"  
  
"The red and white horse with the white mane. You were in a stall with it and it stepped on you."  
  
Orophin had paled noticeably, his jaw clenched in confusion and fear. He kneeled, gently taking the sides of Halnorel's arms in his hands, "How did you know that, Halnorel?" Did you see it in a dream?"  
  
She nodded, but the stuffed rabbit she had fished from the toybox now absorbed her attention.  
  
Orophin looked up, meeting Silraen's anxious eyes over Halnorel's head. He gave the girl a quick hug and rose. Silraen followed him to the balcony, where he leaned back against an upcurving branch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.  
  
"I never told anyone. Ever." Orophin's voice came in a haunted monotone. Silraen leaned a hip on the railing, waiting patiently for him to continue.  
  
"When I was a little boy, probably Taurnan's age, I loved to go to the Lady's stables and look at the horses. I was fascinated by them. . . obsessed with them. They were so beautiful and powerful, and I thought that if I could ride one of them, it would mean I was strong, that I was even more powerful. You don't know what it was like," he said with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his straw-colored hair, "being raised with your husband. He was a leader, a commander, right out of the womb. Trying to live up to him and please Father. . .it wasn't easy."  
  
Silraen watched him with concerned eyes. She had always thought the three brothers got along easily and always had. To know that such strife had existed in their youth cast a different light on who they had all become as adults. Orophin's voice grew softer.  
  
"I went to the stables in the night. There was a huge paint stallion, and I knew if I could show everyone that he would obey me, that I would never be seen as too small or too young again. But, when I went into his stall, he spooked and reared up. I got scared and stumbled. I fell in the corner, and when he dropped back on all fours, his hoof came down and clipped my hip."  
  
Orophin lifted the hem of his shirt and hooked his thumb on the side of his pants. Silraen could see the jagged white scar that crossed his hipbone.  
  
"I ran into the woods and cried for half the night. Then, I snuck into the healer's talan and bandaged my wound. I threw away my bloody clothes and crawled into bed. For days, I struggled to hide my limp. And then, it got better. I never told anyone. In hundreds of years, you are the first person I've told."  
  
Silraen tilted her head, a new respect for her brother-in-law taking root in her. It must have truly been a terrible experience for a small boy, but he had been too tough, too independent to turn even to his parents with it. He had resolved to take care of himself. She put such thoughts aside for the moment, concentrating again on the problem of her daughter's baffling proclamation.  
  
"Maybe you mentioned something about this to Halnorel and didn't realize it. Maybe you said something to Haldir or me in front of her. Maybe she's noticed the scar." Silraen knew these arguments were weak. Orophin was shaking his head sadly.  
  
"If the scar were in the shape of a horseshoe, that might explain it all, but it is not. There's something else at work here, Silraen."  
  
At that moment, Haldir joined them. But, his eyes were caught by something below them on the ground. There, on the soft grasses between the mallorn, was Rumil and his wife, Linaya. There were tears shining on her smooth cheeks, and she clutched at Rumil's armor-clad forearms, as if afraid he would be swept away from her if she released him. Rumil was trying in vain to soothe the distraught elf, and leaned in to kiss her over the bulk of her pregnant stomach.  
  
Haldir frowned slightly at the tearful farewell, and said to Silraen, "I'm glad we were never like that."  
  
"You are the least romantic elf I've ever known," Silraen scolded.  
  
"Well," he said defensively, "If you did that every time I went into battle, you would be so busy weeping you would never get anything else done."  
  
"They're young," Orophin said sagely, "She'll get used to watching him go."  
  
In a quiet voice Silraen said, "No. She won't."  
  
When both elves looked quizzically at her, she changed the subject. "Well, I have work to do, so. . . Take care, Brother."  
  
"You too, Silraen."  
  
She stepped closer to Haldir. "I'm not going to embarrass you by crying," she said in mock annoyance, and Haldir grinned. "But, I want you to be careful."  
  
Haldir took her face in his hands, "I will, darling. And, I want you to remember what I said. Don't let the darkness steal your spirit. I won't let anything happen to you."  
  
Silraen smiled, enjoying the warmth of his hands on her cheeks for a long moment. Then, she stood on her toes and kissed him, a quick, chaste kiss compared to the lingering one Rumil and Linaya were sharing a few stories below.  
  
Silraen waved at them again as she skipped quickly down the stairs to the ground. She smiled at Rumil and Linaya, who broke apart just long enough to tell her good morning. Silraen shook her head for a moment as she walked. It was true, she and Haldir had never been so young, so recklessly in love. That might be a relief to Haldir, but it made Silraen a little sad. She wondered what she had missed.  
  
Instead of going to the orchards right away, Silraen lingered for a moment among the mallorn. She peered around the trunks and watched as the three brothers drifted away from the city, the muted gray of their clothing soon hiding them from view. They dissolved into the forest like they had been forged of it, created from the same elements. And, Silraen supposed they had been.  
  
Several hours later, Silraen was perched in the crook of two branches in one of the older apple trees, studying a diseased branch with sharp eyes. She had worked with these trees for years, she knew them nearly as well as her own children. It was obvious to her when one was unwell. She was so engrossed in diagnosing the problem that she did not notice a figure approaching until they stood right below her.  
  
"Silraen," The musical voice sounded in her ears this time, instead of within her head. But, it surprised her no less. Silraen's gaze shifted to the ground, where Lady Galadriel stood, infinitely patient.  
  
Silraen gripped a branch and swung down to the ground with effortless agility. "My Lady," she said in a tone of quiet control, "I apologize that I did not get the weeds pulled here until today," she motioned with her head to where her workers were diligently weeding around each tree, "but I wanted to get the lower fields seeded early. . ."  
  
"It is all right, Silraen. The orchards look beautiful as usual. And, our grain stores are never empty thanks to you."  
  
A soft blush crept over Silraen's cheeks at the compliment. But, she got the impression that the Lady was only warming her up before broaching a more sensitive subject. Her suspicions were soon confirmed.  
  
"Silraen, what did your daughter see?"  
  
Silraen's eyes shot to Galadriel's for the briefest moment, before she cast them meekly back to her toes. This matter was her family's concern, she did not know why she should have to tell Galadriel. But, Silraen was ashamed to admit she felt intimidated by the Lady's mere presence. She gruffly replied, "She saw a flying creature that screamed. She said she saw mallorn burning and dark creatures below them. That is all she could tell us."  
  
"She has had visions before?"  
  
"Yes." Silraen's voice had dropped to a brittle whisper, "How did you know?"  
  
"There is something special about the girl. I had suspected something was different about her for a long time, but when I saw her this morning. . .Have you Noldor blood Silraen?"  
  
"No, milady."  
  
Galadriel's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. "Haldir is not Noldor. It could not come from her father, unless. . ."  
  
"Exactly what are you implying?" Silraen growled, her gaze snapping up to Galadriel's, "Haldir *is* Halnorel's father."  
  
The Lady winced, feeling Silraen's anger and indignation stab into her mind like a blunt needle. "It's you. It is you she inherited it from." Galadriel stated, lifting a hand to her aching brow.  
  
Silraen scowled, "You try to find some source of Noldor lineage in my daughter, but did it ever occur to you that mere Silvans can have talents too? That it is not only the Noldor who can have such powers?"  
  
Galadriel looked down with shame, "I am sorry. I did not come here to offend you, Silraen. I wanted to know about the girl, about her abilities. Do you have visions too?"  
  
Silraen shook her head quickly, her eyes once again cast down, their blue depths cautious.  
  
"Did anyone else in your family have visions?" Galadriel asked softly.  
  
Silraen's eyes clouded then, an old pain spilling through her like a bitter poison. "Yes."  
  
Galadriel was waiting, still patient, and Silraen remained stubbornly silent. But, finally, she lifted her eyes. Galadriel's face was sincere, sympathetic. The cold, diamond-hard creature Silraen had known before this moment was replaced with just another elf. Galadriel was a wife, a mother, just as Silraen was, she had lived long and wandered far, and seen many hardships before she came to rule this exquisite haven. Silraen let out a deep sigh.  
  
"My father was. . .perceptive like Halnorel. He could sense and understand things that others could not. But, he had only one vision. He saw his own death many years before it happened. He told me one day, 'Silraen, when I die, it will be under three tall pines next to a big flat rock. There won't be any moon and the stars will be so beautiful. Will you put me up there? Will you put me up on the big rock so that I can look at the stars?' Thirty years later, he died under three tall pines next to a large flat rock on the night of the new moon. I'd never seen the stars so bright. I did exactly as he asked. I left him to watch the stars."  
  
Galadriel reached across what had seemed an expanse that separated them and gripped Silraen's shoulder. The Silvan looked up, a vulnerability in her gaze that Galadriel had never seen before, in all the decades she had known her.  
  
Galadriel could still remember the first time she had met Silraen. Several weeks earlier Silraen had stumbled into the city with her mother and brother, all three heavy with grief at the death of the father. In the early morning, Silraen waited outside the throne room of Galadriel and Celeborn, looking over the city with calculating eyes. When she was summoned before the Lord and Lady, she bowed respectfully before them, completely ignoring the tall soldier who pored over a map in the corner. The soldier, Haldir, was equally careful not to notice her.  
  
"My Lord, my Lady. I have some skill with growing things. I would like to ask for a job in the fields."  
  
She didn't bother with flowery sentiments, even back then.  
  
"Child," Galadriel said, noticing a slight stiffening of Silraen's shoulders at the condescending greeting, "You have recently lost one you loved. You should not feel you have to earn your keep with us. It is far too soon for you to be thinking of such things, you should rest and take care of yourself."  
  
Silraen's voice was carefully flat as she said, "I have been resting for weeks. I do not intend to do so for the rest of my life. I want to work."  
  
Galadriel glanced over Silraen's shoulder, and watched Haldir's eyebrows shoot up in amused surprise. He continued to stare at the map, his face blank, but Galadriel sensed he had not really been looking at it since the maiden had entered the room. She didn't even have to read his mind to know that. A grin twitched at one corner of Galadriel's mouth. Haldir, a fine soldier who had gained a special respect with both her and her husband, had never shown much interest in the women of the city. But, this particular maiden was not like the others, that was immediately clear.  
  
Galadriel had given Silraen what she wanted, a job in the fields. Her incredible talent, not only with the plants, but also with organizing large groups of workers had been a pleasant surprise to the Lady. An even more pleasant surprise to many was the happiness she brought to Haldir.  
  
Now, Galadriel watched a veil drop back over Silraen's eyes as she flatly said, "My father had only that one vision, at least that I knew of. Halnorel. . . I fear for her. It is happening too quickly, it is far too much for a child to comprehend. Was it. . . was it like that for you as a child? How soon was it known you could see things others could not?"  
  
The Lady glanced away, her face taking on a faraway look. She had not thought of her own childhood for a long time. "I suppose I was about Halnorel's age when it began. It did frighten me, but Halnorel is lucky. She has a very supportive mother to help guide her through this difficult experience."  
  
Hesitation and uncertainty clouded Silraen's features, "What good can I be, if I do not understand what is happening to her myself?"  
  
"You are more help than you know, I think. And, never forget, Silraen, your family can always come to me if you ever need anything. Between you keeping us fed and Haldir keeping the orcs off our doorstep, we surely owe you."  
  
Silraen released a breath she did not realize she had been holding and nodded in grateful acknowledgement. "I will surely come to you if I feel the need."  
  
Galadriel nodded, turning a rare, shining smile to Silraen. Then, she left, her small feet seeming to float over the grass of the orchard, whispering an ancient song in a language Silraen did not know.  
  
* * *  
  
Special Thanks to my amazing reviewers Tigerlily and Puxinette!! 


	4. An Instinct to Roam

Disclaimer:  Refer to Chapter 1

Chapter 4:  An Instinct to Roam

            The next five days were tense for Silraen.  Halnorel slept in Silraen's bed every night, terrified of being alone.  Sometimes, even in the daytime, the child would start to shake, tears filling her eyes as they stared, damp and unblinking, at nothing.  If Silraen asked her what she saw, she would whisper that she couldn't remember and then cling to Silraen like she had not done in years.  Silraen would hold her and wish Haldir were there.  

            Now, on the fifth day since Haldir had left, Silraen sat on her knees in the soil of a vegetable garden, watching fondly as Halnorel planted watermelon seeds.  Silraen had taken her to the fields the past few days, loathe to let her baby out of her sight when she was dealing with these disturbing visions.  _You are more help than you know, I think_.  Galadriel's words came unbidden to Silraen's mind and she smiled sadly.  She hoped that it was true, but so far, she could do little more than distract the child, keep her at play or work so she had little time to drift.

            Silraen stroked Halnorel's blond head, "Very good.  Won't it be nice to have watermelons in a few months?"

            Halnorel nodded, scooting over to the next mound of dirt and poking watermelon seeds into it.  She covered them over with great care, her small hands patting the soil gently, as if she feared she would hurt it.  Silraen smiled again and tears welled in her eyes for a moment.  But, then she heard a familiar voice.

            "Silraen!  You work too hard, it's after sundown.  It will be getting dark soon."

            Silraen jumped up, bounding over freshly planted rows of radish seeds to throw herself into Haldir's arms.

            He chuckled, swinging her around, his strong arms locked across her back.  His low voice reached her ear, "Isn't this display a little too 'Rumil and Linaya' for the two of us?"

            "Maybe we can learn something from them," she replied.

            "Mmmm. . .Maybe we can," Haldir caught her lips with his, setting her down so he could frame her face with his large hands.  Silraen moaned softly, tipping her head to the side and deepening the kiss.

            "Daddy, get off of her, that's disgusting."

            Haldir laughed against Silraen's mouth, reluctantly breaking away.  "Always the critic," he mumbled, reaching down to lift Halnorel into his arms.  As he held her close, he mouthed over her shoulder to Silraen, "How is she?"

            Silraen just shook her head, struggling to keep the concern out of her eyes, but knowing she failed.  Haldir sighed, turning his head to kiss Halnorel's hair.  As he set the child down, he said, "Silraen, I escorted a rather strange group of travelers to the city just now.  There is one among them that might interest you.  A certain Prince of Mirkwood."

            "Legolas is here?" Silraen asked, her eyes widening in excitement.

            "He surely is," Haldir said with a small smile, "He is speaking with the Lord and Lady at the moment, but when they finish I'm sure he'll want to see you."

            Silraen was beaming, and hurried them both along to the city.  She hadn't seen Legolas in years.  He served alongside her brother, Belegant, in Thranduil's army.  The two elves were of comparable age and had been close in their youth.  When Belegant returned to civilization after Father's death, they had resumed their friendship, helping each other through the pressure and sacrifices of a soldier.  The two elves struck a healthy balance, with Belegant always steady, reliable, and Legolas more mischievous and spontaneous.

            When Silraen's light steps brought her to the glade beneath the city, she saw him immediately.  He stood at the center of a somber party, and they were a strange bunch indeed.  Elf, human, halfling, even dwarf, all brought together in grief for a fallen comrade.

            Some of the grimness dropped from Legolas's features as he saw Silraen.  He ran to her with a laugh and swung her off the ground, much as Haldir had done only minutes before.  Haldir watched with narrowed eyes, plastering a nearly convincing smile on his face and resisting the urge to tear the Prince away from his wife.  Legolas was harmless, an old friend to Silraen, but his appeal to females was legendary and the slight flush coloring Silraen's cheeks made Haldir bristle.

            "Haldir," Legolas called, his eyes glowing with mirth, "Mirkwood has not been the same since you stole away our most beautiful flower."

            Silraen's flush deepened to a flaming red and she batted at Legolas's arm.  "Don't make fun, you foolish elf," she said.  

            "I do not jest, Silraen.  You look wonderful." A brotherly fondness filled his face as he hugged Silraen again.  His gaze turned to Halnorel.

            "And who is this stunning maiden?  Surely the trees themselves bow when you pass, so I shall as well."  He bent low before Halnorel, catching Silraen's eye with a playful grin as he did.  Halnorel, who had been staring rather intently at one of the halflings, giggled, hiding her face behind her hand as the gallant prince bowed to her.  Haldir bit back a groan.  First his wife, now his daughter had been reduced to mush by the charming elf.  It was as if he hypnotized them.  Haldir's eyes narrowed further as he wondered what evil witchcraft gave Legolas such power over females.

            Haldir was broken from his brooding speculations as he realized Legolas was speaking to Silraen,  ". . .a baby.  Your brother told me you bore a third child and he has not yet seen her.  May I?"

            Silraen nodded, speaking excitedly to the wood elf and leading him to the stairs.  Legolas had Halnorel by the hand and not one of the three even bothered to see if Haldir followed them.  With a scowl, he did. 

            After a quick introduction to Miradhel and Taurnan, Legolas was escorted into the back bedroom of Miradhel's flet, where Danuriel was napping.  A look of tender adoration filled Legolas's face as he saw her, "Oh, Silraen," he whispered, "She's so beautiful."

            "She takes after her father, thank the Valar," Silraen smirked.

            Haldir was leaning in the doorway, his thick arms crossed over his chest, and he smiled back, shaking his head.

            As Legolas lifted her in his arms with reverence, he murmured, "When I return to the forest and your brother asks about his new niece, I fear words will not do her justice.  I will have to tell him to come see her for himself."

            The sky blue of Danuriel's eyes soon appeared from beneath her sleepy eyelids.  She gazed up at Legolas in serene silence.  Haldir nearly threw up his hands, seeing that even his youngest was stricken by the wood elf's spell.

            But, as Danuriel woke fully, her eyes latched onto the pale blond braid that fell across Legolas's cheek and near her hands.  She grabbed it in her fist and gave a sharp tug, drawing a small cry from Legolas.

            _That's my girl_, Haldir thought with a smug grin.  But, he'd had enough of watching women swoon over Legolas.  Even his mother had batted her eyelashes at him!  He knew he was being childish and pouty, but there was only so much an elf could take.  Haldir left to go sharpen something.

*   *   *

            The next day, Silraen was hauling water to the fields, dragging bucket after bucket from the small canal to the newly seeded field.  The morning was quiet and cool.  The children were spending the day with their father, the entire day, and she was relieved that he was getting this time with them.  There were weeks she feared they forgot what he looked like.  She knew sometimes she nearly did.

            Silraen was crossing the field, a bucket in each hand, moving carefully between the rows when she spotted a figure on the hill, watching her in silence.  She carefully spread water over the row, then set the buckets aside.  The halfling looked almost afraid as she neared him, wiping her hands on her skirt.  Silraen gave him her most winning smile and watched his tense shoulders relax.

            "Hello, friend.  I am Silraen."

            The halfling bowed his head, a few light brown curls dropping over his forehead.  "Begging your pardon, Miss Silraen.  I didn't mean to distract you from your work.  It's just—I just—" he scrunched up his face, trying to find the words, "I never pictured elves working in fields or gardens."

            Silraen's smile widened, "How did you think we got our food?  Magic?"

            "Well," he said sheepishly, "Yes."

            Silraen laughed lightly, "What is your name, little friend?"

            "Samwise Gamgee, Ma'am."

            "Well, Samwise Gamgee, I am afraid we must get our food through time and sweat like everyone else.  We elves are not really that different than halflings or any other people.  Most elves just don't want others to know that."

            At Sam's perplexed frown she stopped.  Maybe it was best to leave some people their illusions.  She said, "You know, I am due for a break.  Would you like me to show you around the orchards and fields?"

            The halfling's eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly.  For the rest of the morning, Sam and Silraen wandered through Lorien, easily discussing planting methods, flower varieties, and seed collecting.  When he left her to find some lunch, she saw Haldir watching her from the steps leading up to their talan.  

            "I see you've found a kindred spirit," Haldir said, approaching her with a soft smile.  

            "Yes," she replied, "Are they napping?"

            Haldir nodded.  Silraen's eyes took on a faraway gleam as she gazed off into the trees. "It is good to have visitors.  When I was young, we met so many on our travels, there were always new faces.  But here, we are so isolated. . . nothing ever changes.  

            "I thought you liked that," Haldir's voice was quiet, controlled.

            "I do," Silraen said unconvincingly.

            "I hate it when you get that look in your eye."

            Silraen stiffened, glancing at him in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

            "Your brother warned me, you know.  He told me that you were a wanderer, just like your father.  Even the meaning of your name.  Silraen. . .the Silver Wanderer.  He told me it would not be easy to keep you here.  I thought when we had children, you might be cured of your wanderlust.  But, it's still there, I can see it.  I fear someday I will return from patrol and you'll be gone."

            "How can you say that to me?" Silraen fought to keep her voice down, "I would never leave.  I have the children, my work—"

            "So, you stay because you're obligated to," Haldir's voice remained infuriatingly quiet, "You don't stay because you want to."

            "Don't do this," Silraen's eyes were tired, "I just had a nice morning, don't ruin it with this."  

            "We have to talk about this, Silraen.  Because, if you're unhappy here—"

            "I am happy.  I have a family, a home, friends.  And I have you.  I have you."  Silraen stepped forward, forming her hands over the sides of his jawbone, willing him to believe her, "I would stay on the Plains of Gorgoroth if it meant I could be with you."  

            Haldir would not meet her eyes, his gaze cast down.  Finally, he whispered, "I wish I could believe that."

            Silraen dropped away from him, taking a staggering step back.  Haldir turned and went slowly up the stairs to their home, not once glancing back at her.  Silraen felt wounded, raw.  Blinking back the burning of tears, she straightened her spine and walked away.  She went back into the fields and threw herself into her work.  

            The day grew abnormally hot, and still Silraen would not let up.  Her workers exchanged nervous glances, fearing she would become sick with the heat, but also fearing her wrath when she was in such a humor.  Silraen toiled until well after dark, in the cool moonlight.  When she finally, reluctantly, turned toward Caras Galadhon, she had done enough work for three elves.  

            When Silraen returned home, everyone was already asleep.  She entered her and Haldir's chamber and peeled off her filthy clothes.  Silraen dropped, exhausted, beside her husband, as far from him as the bed would allow.  She was asleep before he could open his mouth.  And maybe that was best.  

*   *   *

            It was barely dawn when Silraen rose the next morning.  Haldir pretended to sleep, but he watched her shrug into her work clothes and leave for the fields.  When she was gone, he rose stiffly.  He went to the porch, looking out over the city, watching Silraen walk away over the glistening dew.  Her hair shone, her hips swaying in her plain work pants and Haldir turned away, pained by her beauty.

            He should have kept his mouth shut.  Why did he have to fight with her now?  But, it had been nagging him for a long time, and seeing her with the outsiders, seeing how eagerly she listened to Legolas's stories of his journeys frightened him.  He always feared he was living on borrowed time with Silraen, that it was inevitable, someday she would leave him.  

            Haldir returned to his bedroom and his eyes were drawn to a small shelf on the wall.  He went to it, taking down the objects one by one, turning them over thoughtfully in his hands.  These were the few things Silraen had possessed upon coming to the city, those things she valued enough to hang onto over leagues and leagues of travel.  There was a shiny blue seashell.  Haldir had never even seen an ocean.  Next to that, a book in a language Haldir had never seen before.  Silraen told him it was a book of Southron legends.  A bear claw, a Dwarvish coin, a Corsair amulet, a bead.  A smattering of artifacts from a time in Silraen's life he knew nearly nothing about.  Maybe that was what frightened him so.  There was an entire chapter of Silraen's life that was a mystery to him.  There were stories that she always told, certain adventures she liked to talk about, but there had to be so much more he didn't know.  She had given up that life for him and what did he have to offer her in exchange?  Late night diaper changes and an intimate knowledge of beets.  He couldn't believe she had stayed this long.  

            Haldir sighed, setting the purple glass bead back in its place.  He had known Silraen for sixty years, but still felt he didn't fully understand her.  She understood him, she knew his family, his friends, his home.  But, he could not visit her home, see her roots, because she'd never had one.  Even Mirkwood, which her family had been drawn back to several times, could not hold them, even there, Silraen said, they were just passing through.  They had always been on the move, there was no convenient location for him to visit and with great relief finally understand Silraen's inner self.  While Haldir had only known Caras Galadhon, had been shaped by his surroundings in a single place, all of Middle Earth had shaped Silraen.  And, he had seen little of Middle Earth.

            Haldir shook his head and dropped back into bed.  Silraen could have a home here, if she only wanted it.  But, he could tell she still felt like an outsider.  There was little he could do.  Maybe she would stay until the children were grown.  Maybe longer.  Maybe she'd be gone tomorrow.  But surely someday she would go.  The only thing he could do was thank the Valar for every single day he had with her.  With that bittersweet thought on his mind, Haldir drifted back to sleep.

*   *   *

Thank you so much to my awesome reviewers TigerLily and Puxinette!

A/N   Sorry for the long delay, but chapter 5 is all ready to go and should be up pretty quick.  Thanks for your patience! 


	5. The Warning

Disclaimer:  Refer to Chapter 1

**Chapter 5:  The Warning**

            For the next few weeks, there was a chilly distance between Haldir and Silraen.  He wanted to apologize and set things right, but he could see Silraen wasn't ready to hear it.  She was determined to be angry for a little longer.  

            Silraen had to say good-bye to Legolas and Sam as their quest called them back to the road.  Haldir stood at her side and saw the deep longing in her eyes as she watched them go.  If he had ever been unsure of her desire to return to the wilds, his doubts were washed away by that moment.  She could claim all she wanted that she was happy here.  Her eyes told a different story.  

            Haldir went on a few uneventful patrols.  The border was the quietest it had been in months.  Halnorel's visions stopped abruptly.  Maybe they had all been overreacting.  

            Now, it was March, the grass was greener, the air lighter, and Haldir, Rumil, and Orophin re-entered Caras Galadhon after a two-day patrol.  They were laughing at a story Rumil had told them, all three glad to be home.  Taurnan, having heard them from where he was playing beneath the mallorn, sprinted to them.  Haldir kneeled, bracing for the impact of the energetic youngster who flung himself into Haldir's arms.  He hugged Taurnan's slight frame to him.  When he released him, he tousled the boy's wheat blond hair.  It was already falling out of the careful braids Silraen wove it into every day.  He didn't know why she bothered, the wild little elfling could usually ruin them in less than fifteen minutes. 

            Rumil hurried away to find his bride, and Orophin and Haldir obediently followed Taurnan, who had something to show them that simply could not wait. 

            Haldir and Orophin entered the silent house to find Taurnan had already scurried into his room and gotten the kite.  He excitedly explained that he had made it the day before with Silraen and Halnorel and they had flown it the entire afternoon in the fields.  It was a beautiful kite, large, made of blue fabric painted with feathers.  The bright, blocky feathers were clearly of a child's hand, while here and there was the detailed, thoughtful work of Silraen.

            Taurnan was regaling Orophin with stories of the kite's performance when the door opened.  Silraen entered, looking distracted, and took a few steps before halting in surprise that the house was not empty.  It was then that Haldir saw she clutched her forearm with her hand, blood seeping between her fingers and down her wrist, a shocking shade of red against her pale skin.  She said hello to them all and continued calmly to the washroom.

            Haldir hurried after her.  "Silraen, are you all right?  What happened?"

            "I was hauling stone for the new wall and I fell.  I scraped my arm on a rock."  She turned her back to him, taking down a rolled bandage from the shelf.

            "Fell or passed out?" Haldir asked.  The dull cast of her skin was alarming, she looked faded and thin.  She refused to respond, which was answer enough for him.  Haldir circled her, taking her arm in his hands to examine her wound. 

            "Get off of me, I'm fine," she snapped pulling away.  Haldir ground his jaw, watching her with palpable frustration.  He turned and closed the door so Orophin and Taurnan would not hear and said, "I know you are angry with me.  But, if you think you're going to punish me by working yourself to death...well, all right, that would be a pretty effective punishment.  But, you have got to stop, Silraen.  I won't let you keep doing this."

            Silraen wasn't listening to him, her eyes were unfocused and she swayed slightly on her feet.  Haldir gripped the sides of her arms and urged her down onto the floor, where she leaned weakly against the wall. 

            She didn't argue when he cleansed the wound and bound it with the careful efficiency of a seasoned soldier.  When it was finished, he sat back on his heels, looking closely into her glassy eyes.  "I am so sorry for the things I said before.  I know an apology doesn't make up for it, but I don't know what else I can say.  But, Silraen, you're scaring me.  You've got to let up or you're going to drop dead between two rows of tomatoes and no one wants that to happen." 

            Silraen looked down, fingering the edges of her bandage.  Finally, her eyes shot up to his, weeks worth of hurt and anger blazing from her gaze, "How could you believe I would leave you?  Do you have so little faith in me, Haldir?  Do you really think I would abandon you, abandon our children on...on a whim?  Am I such a terrible wife and mother that you have to worry that I'll run off?"

            "No, Silraen, no.  You're a good mother and a perfect wife.  We're just so different, and sometimes I think we want different things, we have different dreams."

            "We're not that different," Silraen insisted, "And I don't know about you, but I am living my dream right now.  At least, I was, until we started fighting and it got so cold in our bedroom that I can see my breath most of the time."

            Haldir chuckled, ducking his head for a moment.  When he looked up, a smile still lingering on his mouth, Silraen was grinning softly too.  The bitterness and annoyance that had tainted her face before were gone.  His Silraen was back, with her knowing smile and warm eyes.

            Haldir dropped forward onto his knees, framing her face with his hands.  He moved his face to hers, his lips so near to her own, but he hesitated, searching her eyes.  Unable to stand it any longer, Silraen dug her fingers into Haldir's hair and pulled him in for a kiss.  The kiss was searing, Haldir's mouth pressing so hungrily to hers that her head slammed back against the wall.  He was just reaching for the buttons of her shirt when a tiny fist beat on the door.

            "Whatcha doing in there?" Taurnan asked, "Uncle Orophin said I should ask if you were done playing doctor."

            Haldir groaned, breaking off the kiss and pressing his forehead to Silraen's.  On a ragged whisper, he said, "We will continue this later.  And I promise, no frost will be settling in our bedroom tonight."

            Silraen giggled, allowing Haldir to pull her to her feet.  He was still holding one of her hands when they left the washroom, both looking a little flushed.

            "Thank you, Uncle Orophin," Haldir said dryly.  The mischievous smirk that crossed Orophin's lips drew a reluctant laugh from Silraen.  

            "Come on," Haldir said, releasing Silraen's hand to lift Taurnan in his arms, "Let's get you back to Grandmother's so that Mama can rest." Silraen still looked pale and exhausted, and he was not about to let her go back to the fields.  He turned to Silraen, his voice allowing for no argument, "And she will stay here and rest for the afternoon.  She has a big night ahead of her."

            Silraen smiled and sauntered back to the bedroom, shooting a heated look at Haldir over her shoulder that she hoped would sustain him until sundown.  He shook his head in amazement.  As they left the house, Silraen could faintly hear Taurnan asking, "What's happening tonight, Daddy?  What's Mama going to be doing?  Huh?  Daddy?"

            Silraen chuckled and settled in for some much needed sleep. 

*   *   *

            The children were finally asleep, the toys were finally picked up, the city had finally fallen silent.  Silraen and Haldir were already undressing each other as they shut the door behind them, and Haldir pressed her back against the smooth wood of it for a kiss.  He scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed, lifting one knee onto it to set her down gently.  He kissed her again, slowly, beginning to lie down beside her, when a most unwelcome sound reached them.  There was a pounding on the door, but not of a small child's fist.  This was a full-sized soldier's fist.

            Haldir lifted his mouth from Silraen's and cursed violently.  For a moment, he wondered if the punishment for wringing the neck of whoever waited on his doorstep would be exile or simply a court-martial.  With a scowl, he lifted himself off of Silraen and struggled awkwardly into his pants.  

            Silraen, concerned, grabbed a dress and let it drop down over her head.  She did only the most half-hearted job of lacing up the front, but the scandalous amount of skin showing on her chest bothered her little.  For them to rouse Haldir at such an hour, something had to be very wrong.

            Haldir had regained composure and was every bit the Captain as he left their bedroom.  Silraen followed a few steps behind, hanging back as he opened the front door.  Galenos, one of Haldir's most trusted commanders, was there, dressed in full armor.  Without preamble, he said, "Orc scouts have been found on this side of the river.  The Lady's witchcraft seems to deter them no longer.  Orophin believes an attack is imminent, that they will come from the north."

            Haldir nodded, "Give me two minutes."

            He marched back into their bedroom, hurriedly strapping on his armor, arraying his cloak over his shoulders.  Silraen stayed out of his way, instead opening the door to the children's room.  Seeing they still slept in peaceful ignorance of the danger, she leaned in the doorway and watched them.  Wrapping her arms tightly over her middle, Silraen drew in a shaky breath and bit her lip.  

            She felt gentle hands come to settle on her waist, and Haldir whispered, "Shall I wake them?"

            Silraen shook her head quickly, turning back to the living room.  "Let them sleep.  They can see you when you get back."

            Haldir's face tightened for a moment, but he refused to voice the fear that haunted them both.

            "Silraen," he whispered, drawing her to him, feeling the way she trembled slightly in fear.  "I'll be back soon.  And we _will_ have our night together.  Manwë himself can knock on that door and he will not stop us."

            Silraen laughed reluctantly.  She looked up at him, her blue eyes glittering with restrained tears, and suddenly, one escaped, slipping down her cheek like a tiny glass marble.

            "I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching up to scrub the moisture away with the heel of her hand.

            Haldir caught her wrist, drawing her hand down, "It's all right.  I'm afraid too."

            "But, it does no good for me to cry," she said unsteadily, "Like we talked about before, I am not like this, not like Linaya, not like the other wives."

            "This isn't like any other patrol and you know that.  But, do not despair.  I have a lot to come home to.  I'll be back before you know it."

            Silraen nodded silently, unable to meet his eyes.  Haldir cupped her chin and lifted her face gently.  She gazed at him, their eyes speaking the volumes of endearments this hasty good-bye did not allow.  Then, he kissed her quickly, sweetly, and swept out of the room.

            Silraen went to the porch, watching Haldir leave, seeing lanterns blaze to life in the windows of other flets as all the soldiers were roused from their beds.  It was too much for Silraen, and she knew she, the Captain's wife, could not be seen sobbing on her terrace.  As she turned to re-enter the sanctuary of her home, a small form flew by her.

            Halnorel ran down the stairs so quickly she nearly stumbled.  "Daddy, no!" she wailed, the raw pain in her voice echoing over the valley, "You can't go."

            Silraen hurried after her.  Haldir had picked up the girl, and stood on the stairs, clutching her shuddering body to his chest.  Between sobs, she babbled, "Something bad will happen.  They come into the city and set it on fire.  I've seen it.  I've seen it, Daddy!"

            Haldir whispered soothing words, stroking her hair, but she would not be assuaged, "You can't leave us, Daddy.  They're coming.  You don't stop them.  They know, Daddy.  They know how to fool you.  You have to stay!  You _have_ to stay!"

            Silraen reached for Halnorel, gripping the girls' waist, but she held fast, refusing to be separated from her father.  When Silraen finally tore the flailing elfling away from Haldir, Halnorel screeched and clawed, fighting to go back to him.

            "Go," Silraen ordered, pinning Halnorel's arms to her sides and sitting heavily with the child in her lap.  It broke her heart to be so forceful with the girl, but Halnorel was nearly hysterical.

            Haldir hesitated, looking from Halnorel to Silraen, feeling uncertain and torn.

            "Go," Silraen said desperately, rising to drag the screaming child home.

            "Daddy, no!  You can't go." Her brittle wail weakened and turned into great wracking sobs as she collapsed against her mother.  "Daddy," she whispered one last time, watching him with tortured blue eyes, before the door closed behind them.

            Haldir stood for an agonized moment, his chest tight with despair.  He stared up at his house through a glassy screen of unshed tears.  Then, he blinked once, and turned back to the task before him, back to the life of a Captain.

*   *   *

            Just after dawn, Silraen arrived at Miradhel's flet, three elflings in tow. Halnorel's face was puffy from several hours of crying in Silraen's lap.  She had finally sobbed herself to exhaustion and dropped off to sleep three or four hours after the army departed.  Needless to say, Silraen had slept little herself.

            Miradhel opened the door, and upon seeing Silraen dressed for the fields, a look bordering on horror marred her perfect face.  

            Silraen quietly urged the older children to go play.  She went to the back room and deposited the sleeping baby in her crib.  She turned to find Miradhel hovering close behind her.  Miradhel cornered her next to the crib and whispered fiercely, "Just what in the blazes do you think you're doing?"

            "I'm going to work, what does it look like I'm doing?" Silraen made to brush past Miradhel, but the older elf caught her arm, a surprising strength in the small hand.  

            "How can you work at a time like this?  With the army out there, fighting for this city?"

            "It is better than sitting at home, making myself sick with worry.  My work still needs to be done, and I see no reason to neglect it." Silraen extracted her arm, about to leave the room.

            "Can't it wait?  Can't you stay in today?"  
  


            Silraen kept her back to Miradhel, frowning at the pain in her mother-in-law's voice.  Was it that she did not want to be alone, that she needed Silraen's protection?  Silraen nearly forgot sometimes that Orophin was her only company, and he was in the same danger as Haldir.

            Silraen's eyes softened, but Miradhel piped up again, her voice shrill, "Must you be so selfish, Silraen?  Can't you think of your children for once?"

            Silraen turned slowly, a look of distaste on her features.  Quietly, she said, "Do you have any idea how dry it is out there?  Do you know how long we've been without rain?  No, you wouldn't, because I've never even seen you outside the city walls.  My work can't wait one day.  If I don't get some water on those fields now, before the sun is high, by winter you'll have nothing left to eat but the bark off of this tree.  Do you understand?"

            "Who says we'll still be alive by winter?" Miradhel whispered.

            Silraen stepped forward, poking a finger at Miradhel, "Don't you indulge in dark speculation around my children, Miradhel.  I won't have them getting discouraged.  We _will_ see winter, their daddy _is_ coming home, and everything _will _be all right."

            Turning, her back stiff, Silraen left Miradhel to digest that.  She crossed the sitting room, meaning to leave for the fields, but as she reached for the doorknob, she felt a small hand grab her own.  Silraen looked down and back, into Halnorel's solemn face.

            "Can I go with you, Mama?"

            Silraen studied the small, finely-shaped face, with its rounded chin and soulful eyes.  Silraen wanted to tell her no, she knew Haldir would be furious when he discovered Silraen had taken her to the fields beyond the city walls.  But, Silraen found she could not leave her child behind, not when her eyes pleaded so.  She nodded once, leading the child out the door.  She did not turn back to see the disapproving glare of Miradhel, did not see how tiny and alone she looked in the middle of her grand living room.

            As Silraen and Halnorel reached ground level, she saw several of her workers were emerging from their homes as well, silently turning for the fields.  Silraen gave them grateful looks, knowing words would only cheapen the moment.  She sensed that they needed the comfort of routine, the calming effect of labor just as much as she did.  As they all walked slowly through the curling mists of morning, she saw that many of her male workers were absent.  Surely some rapid recruiting by her own husband to boost the army's numbers was responsible for that.  Those elves were quiet workers, not fierce fighters.  They would be the first to fall, should the battle go badly.  Silraen drew in a shuddering breath, forcing down the sob that threatened to bubble up from deep inside her.  It wasn't fair.

            The fields were solemn at first, but soon a few of the elves sang quietly to themselves, and some even made the most feeble attempts at jokes.  Any diversion was welcome and Silraen laughed even though she did not feel very much like laughing.  In mid-afternoon, Tevanna, her youngest worker and the bride of one of Haldir's brightest new commanders, collapsed between the rows, sobbing brokenly.  The elves all paused for a moment of discomfort, and it was Halnorel who moved first.  She rushed over to the crying elf and wrapped her skinny arms around her.  Silraen had never been so proud of her daughter.  Silraen went to them, gently drawing Tevanna to her feet and half-carrying her back to the city and the home of her parents.  

            The mood was darkened by that incident, but they somehow managed to water all the fields and Silraen and Maril continue their work on the wall.  Halnorel scrambled to the top of it, walking along the rough stones as Silraen scolded her, ordering her to get down before she hurt herself.  Halnorel just laughed, enjoying her perch from the top of the wall and how the breeze tickled across her cheeks.  Silraen's angry face was turned up toward her, but suddenly, Halnorel could not hear her.  Silraen's mouth moved emphatically, but there was no sound.  The breeze stopped, the air grew cold, the sky darkened to a slate gray.  Halnorel sunk down onto her knees, whimpering.  It was happening again.  

            She looked up with alarm as great tongues of flame lashed and waved over the forest, and she heard pained screams, the smoke burning down her throat.  She saw a sudden flash of cold yellow eyes, smelled the reeking breath of a creature so hideous she shuddered at the sight.  Then, just as quickly it was gone.  Silraen's voice reached her, thick with concern, calling her name.  The vision was over and yet...it was not.  Halnorel stood, her knees shaking violently, looking out over the southern reaches of the forest.  She tilted her head, listening.  Silraen froze as well, looking back over her shoulder at the trees.  They had gone silent.  The trees were afraid.  And, in a moment of red panic, so was Silraen. 

            She heard it then, the pounding of booted feet.  No elf moved like that.  Many of the other elves had paused in their work, turning their attention to the shadowed trees along the edge of the field.  She was about to turn around, to reach up for Halnorel, when a roughly fletched arrow cut through the air, tearing into Maril's chest.  The smallest gasp escaped his lips, so quiet it was more felt than heard, and he dropped to the ground, dead before he landed.  

*   *   *

 Huge Thanks to my reviewers:  Tigerlily, moonbunny77, and Puxinette.  You guys rock!


	6. Led Astray

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter One.

**Chapter 6: Led Astray**

Haldir's eyes were ever scanning, ever moving, never still. It was giving him a headache. All these years of soldiering, Haldir should be used to that intoxicating, exhausting mix of feeling like both predator and prey. But, it never got easier, particularly for one meant to be immortal, to flirt so often with death.

"Well," Orophin said at his side, "This beats watching Rumil and Linaya make eyes at each other over Mother's quail at her weekly dinners."

Haldir nodded, peering around Orophin to where Rumil walked sulkily. "Yes, that is getting harder and harder to stomach. I nearly gagged on my mashed potatoes last week when he ate left-handed so he could hold her hand through the entire meal."

"Truly," Orophin grumbled.

"Quiet," Rumil growled, "You're just jealous, Orophin, because no maiden will have you."

"Have me?" Orophin snorted, "That is not the trouble. None of the women in this city are good enough for me, you know that."

Haldir shook his head, smiling reluctantly. He thanked the Valar at that moment that he had his brothers beside him. Especially Orophin, who always seemed to know what to say, always seemed to sense what others needed to hear. He didn't know what he would do should anything happen to either of his brothers, the very thought pained him.

Suddenly, his restless eyes spotted movement ahead, and he held up his hand to his bickering brothers. They sobered immediately, swinging their bows forward. The column of soldiers halted. They all heard it then, the scrambling of clumsy feet over the uneven forest floor. Rumil sent aloft a single arrow, but the fleeing orc did not flinch, just dashed north through the trees. It had been like this for most of the night, only the barest glimpse of a fleeing scout drawing them along, but the main force of orcs remained elusive.

Haldir sent a soldier back to the second column, which was led by Celeborn himself, to tell the elf lord what had been seen.

Haldir motioned to his men and their march continued. He was even more wary now, hypersensitive to any sound or smell. Another step and Haldir stumbled on a fallen limb, pitching forward into a clearing. He glanced around in confusion that quickly turned to horror. For, here, a great swath of grass and branches had been trampled by many careless feet. A few half-eaten rabbit carcasses lay about, they had been chewed upon raw and tossed aside. Looking away from the fly-covered bodies, his sharp eyes followed the path of the disturbed land. It seemed to swing out and away, skirting around to the west. The sinking feeling in his soul grew stronger, he was going to be sick. His unsteady feet shuffled along the path for several steps, and all the while, his daughter's voice seemed to scream at him from the trees, the clouds, the very earth was berating him. _They know, Daddy. They know how to fool you._

No. No, he couldn't have been so foolish. But, it was so clear to him now, so gut-wrenchingly clear. The scouts had been a decoy, drawing them further from the city so the orc army could circle around and attack from the south. His voice was ragged as he bellowed, "We must go back! Tell Celeborn to turn back!"

* * *

Silraen gasped, frozen in place for the briefest moment as Maril's body dropped to the ground, she heard the sharp crack of the arrow shaft breaking beneath his weight. The chilling realization hit her like a blast of winter wind. The army had been lured away so the orcs could come up from the south. Halnorel had known. She had seen it. But, they had not listened to her.

Reaching up for Halnorel and jerking the child into her arms, Silraen screamed, "Back to the gate. Now!"

Her workers were shaken from a moment of shock by her commanding tone and flew toward the city, a few stumbling in their haste to reach safety. Halnorel's weight was awkward against her side, but Silraen managed to keep her feet. She whipped her head around once and saw them coming from the trees, swarming forth like wretched black oil poured from a barrel. Their blackened blades were held high, and torches glittered malevolently from the hands of many. They were very close. Silraen wished she had not looked.

The back gate came into view, most of her workers had already made it through. A small shed was beside the path and Silraen let Halnorel down, pushing her toward the gate. Silraen took up a pitchfork that leaned against the building and hurled it at the orc nearest her. The sharp tines went through his neck as the force of the blow drove him backwards. Silraen grabbed a scythe and dashed again for the city.

She was the last one to the gate. She gripped the heavy wood and turned to slam it shut when she saw that one of the others was down, an arrow lodged in the back of her thigh. She lay on her stomach, reaching up weakly to no one in particular, her pain-glazed eyes pleading, beseeching them not to leave her. Silraen tightened her grip on the scythe and ran back for her, dodging arrows and willing her legs to move faster. Silraen grasped the outstretched arm, drawing it up over her shoulders and dragging the wounded elf to the gate. When they were through, two of her more stout-hearted workers stood waiting, and flung the gates shut, dropping the bar.

The walls, as tall as two elves, proved little obstacle to the orcs. Even now, they were scaling it and dropping over the other side, screaming triumphantly in their hideous tongue.

"What of the Lady's magic?" Tiernas gasped, "I thought-they've never..."

"I don't know," Silraen gruffly replied, turning her narrowed blue eyes toward the Great Mallorn, "I don't know."

* * *

Galadriel was on her knees in her bedroom, clutching her head in her hands as a moan fought its way up her throat. The room was in disarray, the washbasin and lantern on her nightstand shattered on the ground where she had stumbled into them, claw marks on the dresser where she had tried to drag herself upright. It was no use. The pain was too great.

She drew herself up just enough to crawl to her balcony. There was screaming, shouts of alarm, and she peered through the barely opened door out over her beautiful realm. "No," she groaned, forcing down a mouthful of bile, "It cannot be."

She dropped down again, gasping as she turned all of her strength to maintaining the barrier around her lands, to preventing any more of their vile enemies from gaining access to Caras Galadhon. It was too late. Each orc, as he jumped from the wall and his accursed feet touched her unsullied ground, felt like a burning poker in her temple.

Some greater force was driving them on, and someone was inside her mind, twisting and poisoning her thoughts until she wanted to tear her beautiful hair out by the fistful or toss herself from the tree. She could not maintain the barrier with her mind so polluted, her strength was sapped and the orcs crossed easily where once they would have been turned back. It was powerful, this being that intruded on her mind, it was ancient. She didn't know when she had begun to weep, but the silk of her gown where it covered her lap was stained with tears. Finally, gritting her teeth so mercilessly she feared they would crack, she lifted her head. She could hear it then, just barely, a breeze carried the sound through the leaves and the crack in the door to her reluctant ears. It was the scream of a Nazgul.

* * *

"Go to the trees," Silraen told them with more calm than she felt, "I'll give you time." Before any could argue, she turned to face the orcs and held up her scythe, fighting the trembling that took her sweaty fingers. The two elves paused only briefly, then one swung the injured elf into his arms, while the other lifted Halnorel. They made quickly for the center of the city.

Silraen swung the sickle, easily beheading the first orc who approached her. She wondered briefly if it was the countless hours spent learning swordplay from her brother and father that was keeping her alive, or if it was the equally countless hours spent cutting grain with this very tool. Either way, the first ten orcs over the wall lay piled at her feet, and Silraen had only a small nick across her arm. Knowing she had bought the burdened elves enough time to escape, she turned for the trees herself, fleeing over the lush grasses, her chest heaving.

Silraen caught up with the others, retrieving her daughter. Halnorel was shuddering wildly, her eyes squeezed shut against an all too familiar sight. "It's just like my dream," she whispered, "It's just like my dream."

Bounding between the massive mallorn, Silraen reached the foot of the stairs to Miradhel's tree.

"Go to grandmother's," Silraen ordered curtly, setting the girl down.

"Mama, I—" Halnorel turned shining blue eyes on Silraen, and her heart twisted in her chest.

"Go," Silraen barked, "Now."

With a sob, hurt burning in her eyes, Halnorel turned and ran up the stairs.

Silraen angrily flicked a tear from the corner of her eye and bolted for her own home. The orcs were spreading throughout the city now, and a few unfortunate elves caught on the ground howled in pain. Silraen burst into her home, the door bashing back against the wall as she threw it open. She skidded to a stop in front of Haldir's wardrobe, tossing shirts and armor aside, and dragging his old sword from beneath it all. She fought with the stubborn metal clasp, cursing violently, and strapped it to her hips. She grabbed her bow and both of her quivers and positioned the awkward load over her back and left her home behind, grabbing her scythe at the doorway.

Glancing up, Silraen saw the homes of many elves in the branches above her, and knew what she had to do. Her feet flew as she went down the steps. Below the lowest flet, she set to hacking at the stairs with her scythe, feeling the skin of her hands tear as she put all of her strength into cutting the wood. Soon, the raggedly cut rails and stairs fell away, leaving no avenue for the orcs to scale this tree. She saw that on several other trees, elves were mimicking her idea, so began picking off orcs with her bow. Her aim was true, and she thought for a moment of Haldir, insisting for all those years that she practice, for someday he might not be there. He wasn't there. _Where in the name of Mordor and all that is unholy is he?_ _He promised he would keep them away, keep us safe. Where is he? _Rage at her husband burned through Silraen, more potent even than her hatred for orcs, and in a moment of sizzling anger, she picked up her scythe and hurled it end over end at an orc on the stairs to the Great Mallorn. It impaled him cleanly, pinning him to the trunk of the tree. Many of the orcs turned to her, watching the sneer that crossed the tall elf maiden's lips, and for the first time they paused. This was supposed to be an easy victory. The Wraith had sworn it.

The rain of arrows from within the trees grew thicker, spreading confusion among the orcs. Silraen looked around quickly, seeing her neighbors and friends joining her in defending their home. Silraen felt her courage renewed, felt great pride as orcs fell all along the valley. But, her elation was short lived.

The angry glittering of a rough-hewn torch appeared between the trees and Silraen shot its bearer. But, there was another, and another. Silraen was running out of arrows. There was a great whoosh.

A torch had reached its mark, igniting the dry moss and lichen at the base of one of the mallorn. Silraen watched with growing terror as the flames leapt up the trunk, growing higher and redder, licking along the bottom of the lowest flet. Silraen's mind went nearly numb with fear. The lowest flet of the southwest mallorn. Miradhel's home. Her children.

Silraen heard several arrows sing through the air and watched as flaming arrows set the catwalks joining the trees ablaze. There was no escape for those in the burning tree. They had to get that fire out, there had to be a way. Silraen vaulted over the railing and dropped a great distance to the ground, rolling as she landed. She came back upon her feet instantly, drawing her sword. Those few orcs that opposed her were cut down quickly, and she reached the base of the mallorn. The heat of the flames drove her back, she lifted a bloodied hand to shield her eyes, but still she felt seared by it. She looked around helplessly, trying to scream for more to come and aid her, but her voice was lost in the din of crackling flames and wailing elves.

One of the archers in the trees glanced down and noticed the lone she-elf on the ground, beating at the roaring fire with a banner torn from beside the path, succeeding only in singeing the ends of her blond hair. He motioned for those around him to follow and dropped lightly to the ground.

As a strong hand gripped her shoulder, Silraen reached for her sword, but stopped as she met the steady green eyes of an elder elf. She stepped away from the blaze, shouting over the noise, "Eight of you, start bringing water from the well. You four, come with me."

Silraen and the elves drew their bows, covering the others who fought the blaze. She could hear the screams of elves above her head. Many had emerged from homes higher in the tree and were milling on the lowest flet. Several dared to jump, falling through the smoky air to the glade below. Orc archers were shooting arrows into the crowd of elves that remained, and Silraen felt new anger burn in her stomach. She began firing at the orcish archers, tracing the path of each arrow back with her eyes. A young she-elf dropped from the platform above to Silraen's feet, two arrows jutting out from her stomach. Hating herself as she did it, Silraen bent and jerked the arrows from the dead elf's body, nocking and firing them back at their owners. She had only one arrow left. Silraen looked through the gray haze and saw the squat stone building next to the Great Mallorn. The armory.

Silraen dashed for the building, drawing her sword as she ran. She slashed her blade across the face of the first orc she encountered, spun, and clashed blades with another. His reeking breath filled her nostrils and she growled with displeasure and loathing. In a burst of motion, the orc swung his scimitar around and tore it across Silraen's arm. She staggered, hitting her knees hard. The fire raged on. She thought she heard Taurnan scream. Just when her hopelessness was most complete, a new noise rose over the chaos, bursting through the ugliness of battle like the fresh rays of sunshine after a storm. Golden elvish trumpets sang from the trees as Haldir's army burst into the city. Silraen saw Celeborn, astride his chestnut horse, cutting through the orcs, merciless and majestic as he led the Lorien elves in defense of their city.

_Haldir. Haldir's here. _Silraen felt a rush of shame at doubting him, at blaming him for leaving them to this. Because now he would save them.

There was little time for relief, for Silraen sensed motion behind her. Dropping forward, she avoided a sword blow that would have surely decapitated her. Rolling to the side, she found her feet again and crossed blades with the orc. They pressed their swords together, ever closer, both sure they could defeat the other by brute force alone. Then, the orc snapped his neck forward, driving the metal of his helmet into Silraen's skull. The skin of her forehead split open, blood poured into her eyes and down her face. Jumping back, Silraen swung her sword blindly, relieved to feel it encounter something soft. The dead orc fell against her and she shoved him off and to the side.

She was about to turn for the armory again when she saw that in the chaos of the burning flet, several elves were being knocked off the edges, screaming as they fell. Silraen's eyes widened as one small body dropped limply through the air. She could remember buttoning that same green dress on Halnorel that morning. Even over the noise of clashing swords and roaring flames, Silraen heard the sickening thud as Halnorel hit the earth.

Silraen wiped frantically at her eyes, trying to scrub away the stinging blood that filled them. But, even then, the image was blurry and double. She could see well enough to spot a large orc running toward her daughter. Silraen tried to run, but swayed and dropped to her knees. _What is wrong with me?_

Using her sword for support, she struggled back to her feet, nocking her last arrow and aiming for the orc. But, blood ran into her eyes again and her hands were shaking violently. She fell again, snarling with frustration. "Haldir!" she screamed, her voice nearly hysterical. If he still lived, surely he would save their daughter. "Haldir!" She wiped angrily at her eyes, and then she saw him beside the dancing flames of the burning tree. He started to run for her, but she lifted a trembling finger in the direction of their child. Haldir then saw his daughter, saw the lumbering darkness of the orc reaching for her. Haldir glanced back at Silraen and their eyes clashed in mutual alarm for a single charged moment

"Go." The word tore raggedly from Silraen's throat.

Haldir ran for Halnorel, but the orc already had her. He backhanded her across her cheek, then drove his fist into her face. The little girl whimpered in horror. This amused the orc, who pulled Halnorel up by her beautiful hair and held her several feet above the ground. His arm was cocked back, ready to strike the child again, when Haldir set upon him like rage incarnate.

Haldir tackled the orc and saw Halnorel break from his grasp and roll safely away. Haldir slashed his sword across the orc's face and half rose. Spitting every curse he knew, he continued to drive his sword into the orc, even after it was long dead. Screaming and panting with fury, Haldir was covered in black orc blood, but he didn't care. He unleashed anger such as he had never felt before on the corpse of the orc. Finally, he felt a steely grip cover his wrist and the sword was torn from his hand. Blindly, he went after the orc with just his fists. Familiar arms closed around him, dragging him back, and a voice pierced the thick fog of his rage.

"Haldir stop! Enough!"

Haldir stumbled backwards. He dropped heavily to the ground, his breath sawing from his heaving chest. Silraen fell too, feeling the impact with the ground through her injured head in a flash of red pain. They stared at each other in horror for several seconds. Haldir barely recognized his wife. Her own blood covered her face and neck and dripped onto the front of her shirt. Her left arm was torn roughly open, staining her sleeve black with blood.

Silraen also could not believe her eyes. Haldir was caked with orc blood, it was in his hair, under his fingernails. For a moment, he had seemed to have lost his very sanity. She had never known his heart capable of such darkness, such terrible power. After that shocked moment, both became aware of the battle still raging around them and the child crying next to them. Haldir gathered himself up first, crawling to Halnorel.

It wrenched his heart to look upon her. Her cheek was bright red, her lip split and swollen. One blue eye was beginning to swell shut. She whispered around a mouthful of blood, "Daddy?"

Fighting tears, Haldir tucked her into his arms. He turned to Silraen and wordlessly wrapped an arm around her waist. He half carried, half dragged her to the armory. Once inside the small building, Haldir kicked the door shut behind him. Silraen dropped down next to a pile of armor, falling to her hands and knees. Haldir carried Halnorel to a spot next to the single small window to examine her wounds. He felt Silraen brush past him, elbowing toward their daughter. Haldir relented, watching as Silraen felt gently along the fragile bones of Halnorel's face and arms, leaving small smudges of blood from her fingertips. There were no breaks. The child was shaken, but intact. She hugged Halnorel to her, but soon felt gentle hands on the sides of her arms.

Haldir turned her to face him, feeling along the edges of her head wound. "It will need to be sewn closed," Haldir said, his voice thick and quiet, "But I think you will be all right." He shifted slightly and tore the sleeve from her workshirt, then tied it tightly over her sword wound. Silraen had been staring down at Halnorel's blond head, but finally she looked up at Haldir, met his eyes for the first time. His eyes held a dazed vulnerability that he dared not show to anyone else. But here, in the seclusion of the dank armory, he shared with Silraen the fear he veiled behind an icy blue stare around his soldiers. Here, with Silraen, he was just an elf and a father watching his home and all he loved fall to ashes around him. Silraen pulled him to her, pressing his face against her neck for a long moment. Haldir drew in a deep, cleansing breath, seeming to draw new strength from the brief contact with Silraen. They broke apart quickly as a piercing scream rose up from above, seeming to shake the stone walls of the armory. The very air seemed to vibrate with ominous power. "Nazgul," Haldir breathed, feeling a shudder tear up his spine. He rose then, his voice clear and commanding, "Stay here until someone comes for you. Understand?"

"I can still fight," Silraen stated just as firmly.

"You're injured, and you must stay with Halnorel."

"I can shoot. Put me on the roof. Please, Haldir."

Their eyes met in a silent battle, until finally Haldir grunted in frustration, "All right." He turned and glanced through a crack in the door. The battle seemed to have gained intensity, several orcs were right outside the door.

"I will clear the way for you," Haldir said without hesitation.

"Wait, Haldir." He glanced back at Silraen to see she was whispering instructions to Halnorel to stay put, then she dropped a quick kiss on the top of the girl's head. Rising, she drew her sword. Ignoring the warning in her husband's eyes, she stepped up to his side.

Glancing down, Haldir said, "I can't believe you've been fighting with that dull old sword." He pulled a weapon down from a shelf near the door, pressing it into her hand. "Now you're ready."

Silraen swung the new blade in a few careful arcs, cocking an eyebrow in approval. She nodded quickly to Haldir and he threw the door open. Fighting back to back, Silraen and Haldir hacked through the orcs, Silraen clutching her injured arm close to her body. A spray of orc blood covered Haldir's chest as he sliced an orc's arm from his body. Silraen drove her new sword through the stomach of a small orc, the last that threatened them. She turned and grabbed the lower eave and swung onto the roof. Haldir tossed several quivers up to Silraen. As she caught the last quiver, her eyes widened and she quickly swung her bow around and let an arrow fly just above Haldir's head. He felt a few blond hairs stir on the top of his crown. Glancing back, he saw an orc drop dead just feet behind him.

"Thanks," he said with a half-smile.

Silraen nodded, "You'd better get back to your men, Captain."

Haldir nodded and ran to rejoin the fray as Silraen took aim for what orcs remained. A scream tore through the air again, and elves all around dropped with fear. Silraen felt a tremoring take her limbs, but she steeled herself against it and shot on. She saw it then, the Wraith on its terrible flying mount, the great wide wings gulping up air as it flapped between the mallorn. It swooped suddenly, its jaws open, beady eyes trained on the elf woman perched on the armory roof. Silraen froze, willing herself to be patient, staring down the creature until she could nearly see the jagged edge of each yellowed tooth. Then, she dove to the side, rolling along the roof. She felt the wind of it pass over her, smelled the rotten carrion smell of its body and she nearly wretched. But, it did not try for her again, instead it glided back to the center of the battle and the Wraith laughed as elves quailed at his presence.

But, there was one who did not falter. Celeborn sat astride his horse, as solid as the roots of the mountains, and drew back his bowstring with unwavering precision. His arrow pierced the winged creature's belly, driving through the soft tissue nearly to the fletching, and it screamed in surprise and agony. With uneven strokes, its wings drove it on, but away, back to Dol Guldur, retreating in shame. The orcs, confused and disheartened by the loss of their leader, were scattering, the frightening orchestration of their attack breaking down into their usual random, unthinking violence. They became easy targets for Haldir's army. It was nearly over.

As Silraen lowered her bow, a loud clap of thunder rent the skies. She looked up, watching the swirling black clouds. Suddenly, they poured forth cold rain that beat down upon all of Lothlorien. Silraen would swear the skies wept that day for the violation of this once pure land. She tipped her head back further, letting the rain wash the soot and drying blood from her face. The world around her seemed to slow and stop as the cleansing rain surrounded her. It was at that moment that Haldir looked at her.

He had been frantically rallying a small force to follow the fleeing orcs when he glanced at the armory. The raindrops seemed to hover in the air as Haldir looked on Silraen. She stood with her arms outstretched, her face turned toward the skies. She held a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. For a moment, she looked like some sort of warrior goddess, and Haldir thought this might be a glimpse of Silraen as she had once been, a fearless creature of the wilds. That raw, elemental beauty had always been there, repressed by her duties as mother, wife, gardener. He marveled at how blind he had been, that he had never seen it until that day.

Haldir turned away, barking orders, gathering his men. But, the image stayed with him, was burned into his eyelids. Even as he chased down orcs through the deepest corners of the forest, it haunted him. It would stay with him for the rest of his life.

* * *

Thanks to my ever-wonderful reveiwers, Puxinette, Tigerlily, and moonbunny77!!!


	7. Somewhere Very Far Away

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long delay, I moved to Michigan and started a new job, you know, that kind of thing, but I should be updating more regularly now. For those still sticking with me, I love you all!

**Chapter 7: Somewhere Very Far Away**

Celeborn mounted the stairs anxiously, his chest tight with fear. Where was she? It was not like her to cower in their chambers, although that is what he hoped she had done. For years, for centuries, no creature of darkness had been within the city walls. Her power, and the power of her ring had seen to that. Celeborn dared not imagine what had changed.

He paused, glancing with narrowed eyes at a dead orc pinned by a farming tool to the thick bark of the mallorn. Celeborn eased around the corpse and took the stairs two at a time, a new urgency in his steps as he heard no movement above him, nothing.

"Galadriel?" he called, hearing the panic in his own voice. The throne room, her sitting room, the washroom, all were empty. He went finally to their bedroom, and stopped dead at what he saw.

Galadriel was sprawled on the floor, the flowing train of her gown tangled around her legs, her hair splayed about her. She did not look up, for a moment he feared she did not breathe.

"Galadriel," he gasped, dropping to his knees beside her. As he turned her over and drew her into his lap, he saw that her nose was bleeding, her eyes squeezed shut as if a great pain plagued her. He drew the edge of his sleeve gently over her face, wiping away the blood. "Galadriel?" he said again, his voice nearly a whimper, and he knew at that moment he would give his very soul to see the pure blue of her eyes gazing up at him.

And, in a single flash of goodness among all the darkness and doubt, his wish was granted, Galadriel's eyes snapping open to stare upon him. She lifted her hand weakly, brushing it across his jaw, trying to smooth away the tension she saw there. It baffled her for a moment, why he was looking at her with such open fear, but then her limp hand dropped, dabbing at the blood on her upper lip. It was then that she remembered.

A single sob shook Galadriel and Celeborn gathered her to him, pressing his face into her gleaming hair. For the briefest instant, Galadriel allowed herself the luxury of his embrace, burrowing her face against his chest. But, then she turned from him, struggling to her feet and straightening her clothes. Her steps were unsteady, jerky as she went to her balcony. She did not go outside, simply gripped the door and leaned into it.

"He was inside my mind, the Wraith. He overpowered me, I could not keep the barrier up. I could not keep them out of our lands."

"How-how could that be?" Celeborn stuttered.

"I do not know," Galadriel's response was little more than a whisper, "The will of the Dark Lord drives him on. I was not prepared for it. But, they will be back, of that I am sure." She glanced back at Celeborn, her normally cool eyes troubled. "I felt his determination, and felt his indignation when you wounded his mount. If for nothing more than pride, he will raise another force and he will be back."

Celeborn went to her, rubbing one of his large hands up and down her back as he could find no words. Galadriel turned to him, dropping her head to his shoulder, hoping he could stay for just a moment before he returned to his duties as a warrior. But, she felt the sigh that shuddered up his chest and knew he would go even before he drew away.

"Will you be all right?" he asked simply.

Galadriel nodded, watching his stiff back as he left their bedroom. He paused at the door, casting his deep blue eyes back at her one last time, "You should rest. Please, I will take care of what needs attention outside this door. You...you just rest."

He knew she would not. But, he said it anyway.

* * *

Haldir and his men overtook a group of the retreating orcs and fell upon them like a wave. Birds fluttered from the trees with screeches of surprise as clashing metal rang through the air. His men showed no fatigue, no fear, but he knew it was there. That only made him more proud of them all, that they fought on through adversity.

A few orcs at the edges broke away, hoping to disappear into the forest, but were cut down by the archers. Haldir brought his sword down on the chest of an orc, feeling the blade cut through the leather armor and tear through flesh. As the orc crumpled before him, Haldir glanced beyond it. He could see his brother, Orophin, surrounded by several orcs. He watched in helpless terror as one orc drew his scimitar across Orophin's side. The elf fell, stunned, dropping to the leaf-littered earth. Another orc stepped up, slamming a club into Orophin's leg. The crack of snapping bone seemed to echo through the trees, and shook Haldir to his very core. As the orc lifted the club again, aiming this time for Orophin's spine, Haldir's dagger whipped across the distance and tore into the orc's throat. A few more arrows sang between the trees and it was over, the orcs were scattered in sprawled heaps around them.

Haldir sprinted to his brother, nearly stumbling over the strewn corpses, eyes wide with fear. He fell at Orophin's side, turning the elf over with trembling hands. No. No, he wouldn't lose him. Not now.

"Findor!" he called, hoping the healer still lived.

Orophin was looking up at him with those wise green eyes and managed to twist his whitened lips into a grin. "Calm down, brother. You look like you're going to faint."

_How can you joke?_ Haldir wanted to scream, but somehow dredged up a smile of his own.

"Don't you worry about me. I've seen a lot worse than this little scratch you've got."

He dared to glance at the long gash even now dripping blood onto the dull green mosses below them. Haldir paled a few more shades, looking up desperately for Findor. Suddenly, the elf was before him, giving instructions in his calm, even voice. Haldir followed them unthinkingly, pressing his cloak into Orophin's wound to try to stop the bleeding. He looked down with hopeless horror as blood soaked through the material and seeped between his fingers. Haldir's glassy eyes were jerked away by the sound of tearing cloth. As Orophin's pant leg was tossed aside, Haldir nearly wretched at the sight of the jaggedly broken piece of bone poking through the skin of Orophin's thigh. He looked back to Orophin's face, watching it tighten as Findor probed the break, but he did not cry out, did not squirm. _By the Valar, he is strong_.

Orophin met his gaze then, and Haldir saw that although his body was still, a mindless pain filled his eyes. Haldir would have done anything, given all he had at that moment to take that pain from his brother. But, he could not even take his hand, for he had to staunch the bleeding on his side. For one terrible instant, Orophin's eyes pleaded with Haldir to make it stop, begged his brother to protect him as he had when they were children. His eyes slipped shut, and as Findor set the broken bone, he arched his back and let out a howl that seemed to shake the very earth.

* * *

Silraen quietly entered the darkened armory. For a panicked moment, Halnorel was nowhere to be seen. "Halnorel?" she called, her voice quaking. With great hesitation, the child finally crawled out from below a shelf. Wordlessly, Silraen dropped to her knees in front of her daughter and drew her into her arms. For many minutes, she just held the girl, kissing her hair and trying to calm her still wild heartbeat. Finally, Halnorel whimpered and Silraen knew she was scaring the child by being so emotional. It was time to be strong again.

Silraen pulled back, plastering a watery smile on her lips. "Let's go see if we can't find your brother and sister and grandmother."

"They're dead, surely they are," Halnorel wailed, "The fire burned them up."

"No, honey, look, it is raining. The rain put out the fire. I'm sure they are out there looking for us too."

Halnorel sniffled and nodded. They emerged into the drizzling rain together. The soldiers were already lowering elves down on ropes from the tree. Silraen and Halnorel reached them just as Taurnan was brought down in the arms of one of Haldir's warriors. As soon as they reached the ground, the boy struggled from his grasp and ran to his mother. Silraen kneeled and gathered him to her, squeezing both of the children tight. As she drew away, Taurnan stared at Halnorel's beaten face in open agony. With characteristic impulsiveness, Taurnan hugged his sister, tears springing anew in his eyes.

"I am sorry you fell. I grabbed for you, but I could not hold you. I am too small."

"It's all right," whispered Halnorel, "You tried your best."

"My lady, you are injured," a voice broke into Silraen's vigil over the poignant moment between her children. Her troubled blue eyes met his, "I am all right, Thellendur. Where is Haldir?"

"He is leading the chase after the remaining orcs. They were few and could not have gotten far. I am sure he will return soon."

Silraen nodded and turned to scan the growing number of shaken and sobbing elves being brought down from the flets above her. Finally, Silraen saw Miradhel rushing toward her. She was babbling apologies as she fell toward Silraen. Silraen hugged her, trying to comfort the distraught elf. Silraen pulled away and saw that Danuriel was cradled reverently in Miradhel's arms.

"She didn't cry," Miradhel said in awe, "Not through any of it. Not a sound."

"She has a peaceful soul," Silraen whispered, staring into the shining, serene eyes peering out from a soot-stained blanket, "I envy her."

* * *

Haldir tightened his grip on the handles of the litter that bore his brother. As he entered the city, the acrid sting of smoke and quiet moans of the injured immediately assaulted his senses. In the charged atmosphere at the end of the battle, he had had no time to take stock of the damage to the city. He was now nearly driven to his knees by the devastation and ruin all around him. The shame of failing to protect his home washed over Haldir in searing waves. But, he refused to surrender to self-pity, hoping there was some way to salvage something from this tragedy. He would not falter again.

A cluster of elves was gathered at the foot of one of the mallorn, healers scurrying between their various charges. Haldir and Findor carefully set Orophin among them.

"Don't jostle me, you big oaf," Orophin scolded and Haldir rolled his eyes.

"If you have such a problem with how I carry you, you can walk."

Several harried female healers brushed Haldir aside and closed in about his brother. Findor drew him aside, quietly assuring, "He will be all right, I think. His wound looks worse than it is. But, his leg will take long to heal. He will not fight again in this war."

Haldir gazed over Findor's shoulder at where Orophin lay, flirting with one of the healers. It would not be the same without him. Although Rumil was a fierce swordsman and a fiery fighter, Orophin was a strategist. His mind was always at work. Haldir's army would be much less effective without him.

Haldir hoped vainly that Silraen had had the sense to come here and have her wounds tended, but she was nowhere in sight. Haldir started into the city in search of her. He caught one of his men and ordered, "Find whichever of my lieutenants that you can and have them convene in the Council chamber in the Great Mallorn."

The elf nodded and veered off to carry out this task. Haldir picked his way around smoldering tree limbs and orc corpses. He stopped to assist with the injured when it was asked of him, but his eyes ever roved the faces around him for a select few. Finally, he spotted them.

Sitting on the damp grass next to a mossy stone fountain was his family. Miradhel sat on the fountain's edge, the children gathered around her. Rumil was beside her, with Linaya sitting silently at his feet, her head on his knee. One of her hands was clutched protectively to the rounded bulge of her pregnant stomach. Rumil was watching over them all with sad eyes, periodically making faces at the baby.

As Haldir approached them, he struggled to hide a slight limp. He had been thrown down by an unusually quick orc and his hip now throbbed from the impact. If it had not been for the help of a young soldier, who had killed the orc before it could deal a fatal blow, Haldir would surely be limping into the Halls of Mandos right now.

Taurnan spotted him first and scrambled down from the fountain. His short legs churned as he ran for Haldir. Haldir kneeled and gathered his son to him, feeling his small body shake with sobs.

"Daddy," Taurnan whimpered.

"I'm here, Taurnan, I'm here." He stopped himself before he could tell his son that everything was all right. Because everything was not all right. Instead, Haldir lifted Taurnan into his arms and the little boy tucked his face against Haldir's neck. Rumil rose stiffly and went to meet his older brother. Rumil had a deep cut along his hairline and a bruise forming below one bright blue eye. He shifted his shoulders in his heavy armor, the plates of gold metal engraved with leaves clattering as he moved. Rumil could not help but raise a hand to rub Taurnan's thin back, hoping to give comfort to his frightened nephew.

"Where is Orophin?" he asked. Haldir looked down, drawing in a slow breath. Rumil's face clouded, "What?" When Haldir hesitated, Rumil's alarm grew. He struggled to keep his voice down, so that their mother would not hear, "What has happened?"

"He has been injured," Haldir finally explained, "His leg is badly broken, but he will live."

Rumil ground his jaw, nodding in silent relief. "How are they?" Haldir asked.

"Frightened. Confused. The healers looked at Halnorel's face and she will be all right. She is very brave."

Haldir smiled sadly, handing his son to Rumil. He went around him to the fountain, looking down at his eldest child. Halnorel looked haunted and exhausted in a way no child should. He brushed his hand carefully over her blond head, but she did not look up. She did not even seem aware of his presence. He met his mother's eyes nervously, then turned away.

"Rumil, I am sorry to take you away from your wife, but I am conferring with my lieutenants in the Council Chamber soon. I could use your thoughts on what we must do now."

Rumil nodded quickly. Haldir was about to turn away, but asked suddenly, "Where is Silraen?"

"I have not seen her. She may be helping the healers."

Haldir nodded thoughtfully and swept his gaze one last time over his family. They looked so completely vulnerable, so broken. In a moment of striking clarity, Haldir knew what had to be done.

* * *

Celeborn leaned against the back wall of the large airy room, watching soldiers shuffle in. They were bedraggled and disheartened, and he knew the order Haldir was about to give would do little to improve morale. Celeborn felt a small twinge of guilt at leaving Haldir to speak to the warriors while he lurked in the back, but this was Haldir's plan, and Celeborn felt as downtrodden as all around him. If Haldir would speak to them, then he would let him.

Haldir met Celeborn's gaze from the front of the room and Celeborn nodded. He did not have to call for quiet, for already a thick silence hung in the air. Where he stood before a great carven balcony, the open doors behind him gave all a view of a smoldering walkway and charred, naked branches around it. Haldir cleared his throat.

"Galadrim. I know the turmoil that is in your hearts. We have all lost some of our faith in goodness, we have felt the sting of the malice that spreads through these lands. We have all lost friends and fellow soldiers today. But, we have not the time to mourn them."

A few heads shot up at his proclamation and they looked quizzically at the Captain.

"The living must act now, we must move swiftly to secure the safety of those we love. This attack was only the first wave, it is our belief that another assault is imminent." Haldir drew in a deep breath, holding the eyes of his soldiers one by one until finally he said, "We must empty Caras Galadhon. The women, children and the wounded will be sent into hiding. Those who can fight will make one final stand to give them time to escape."

Shocked murmurs rippled through the room. It was Rumil, Haldir's own brother, who spoke first. "Surely you are not serious. We should not allow them to drive us from our homes. If we are to fall, I want Linaya at my side, that we could meet this fate together."

Haldir steadily met Rumil's indignant eyes, "If Linaya wanted to make that choice, it is hers to make. But, your unborn child is not able to choose. My Danuriel, she cannot choose. And I will not be responsible for sealing her fate. There is a chance that they can escape and live to see an end to these times and I will not let that chance slip through my fingers."

Rumil's conviction had wavered at the mention of his child, but he stood and spoke again, "Then send the children and those with child away, but let those who would stay do so." Several other voices chimed in in agreement.

Haldir shook his head immediately, "Rumil, can Linaya wield a sword? Fight hand to hand? Elenhir, what about your wife, can she break an orc's neck? No? I didn't think so. We will never be able to defeat our enemies if we must always be protecting those who cannot fight. No, if one goes, they all go."

Elenhir, his face twisted in displeasure, called out, "If all men who can fight will stand in the city and only the innocents are to leave, then who will lead them?"

Haldir's proud chin went up a notch, "Silraen."

Several elves shot to their feet and began to argue the choice. But, to Haldir's relief, Thellendur also rose. Barking over the din, he said, "He's right. He's right." All eyes turned on the seasoned warrior, "It _must_ be Silraen. I have heard that she took up arms against the orcs and rallied elves to fight the fire in the east tree. She fought bravely on though she was injured."

Haldir continued, "She is a Mirkwood elf. She is an experienced fighter and knows the wilds better than anyone in this room, even Celeborn and myself. If there is anyone who can lead them to safety, it is Silraen. It is the only way."

Haldir scanned the room, finding no more defiance among his men. As his gaze rested on Rumil, his brother sighed and looked up. With a simple nod, it was settled.

* * *

When Haldir finally found Silraen, she was standing at the edge of the orchards. Haldir's steps faltered as he looked at the landscape before him. All that remained of the beautiful fruit trees was smoking black skeletons, twisted masses of dying flame. The once green hills now rolled into the distance as a scorched blemish on the earth.

Haldir approached carefully, not knowing what to say. No one had seen her for nearly an hour, and he wondered briefly if this is where she had been that whole time, rooted to this spot in disbelief.

"Silraen?" he said, and watched as one fat tear rolled down through the grime on her face, leaving a small trail of clean skin in its wake. It was several seconds before she turned to him, and her eyes flashed with surprise, as if she had not known he was there. "Silraen, I'm sorry," he whispered. The gray smoke curling from the dead trees swirled around her, weaving a thin web around her still form.

She blinked several times, then sighed, her shoulders drooping a full foot with the exhalation. "I will..." she sighed again, "I will replant. They will grow again. It may take another sixty years, but I have that time."

"Replanting may have to wait, Silraen."

Silraen narrowed her eyes, confusion filling her face. It was Haldir's turn to sigh. "We must talk."

Haldir took her hand, leading her to one of the ancient stone walls that snaked around the orchards. He gripped her waist and lifted her onto it. The wall was only waist high, and he was able to look her in the eye. She gazed up at him expectantly. He studied her face in the sunlight, brushing a pale lock of hair away from the ugly black stitches crossing her forehead. She looked tired and small and Haldir's assurance wavered. How could he lay this burden on her shoulders, how could he send her into such peril? How could he ask this of her? He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing there was no other way.

"Silraen, you were so brave today. Many elves owe their lives to you. But, there is something you still must do."

Silraen had gone very still, her blue eyes cautious, but she did not look away. The grimness in Haldir's voice grated on her ears.

"Celeborn and I have decided to send the women, the children, and the injured away...send them away until it is safe. And you are to lead them. Take them far away...somewhere you know from your travels...you must know of a place..."

Silraen had been shaking her head emphatically, her lips parted in surprise. "No. No, Haldir, this is madness. I cannot do this, surely one of your warriors knows the land, would be a better choice than I."

Haldir looked down, his lips pressed together, the sunlight glinting off of his disheveled blond hair. When his eyes met hers again, they were pained, pleading. "It must be you, Silraen. Please."

"Then I will take them to Mirkwood. Thranduil would not turn us away, my brother serves in his army."

Haldir hesitated, but finally said, "I have received word that Thranduil's people are under attack too. It is no safer there than here."

Silraen blanched, thinking of her mother and brother. Was her brother fighting even now in defense of Greenwood? Was he already dead? The tears that had begun upon finding her orchards destroyed threatened to spring anew in her eyes, but she tamped down her panic, focusing again on Haldir.

Haldir lifted his hand to her face, gently brushing his thumb over her cheekbone in the way he knew she liked. She tipped her face further into his palm.

"Take them somewhere hidden, somewhere very far away. Tell no one where you mean to go, not even me. I will find you when this is all over."

Silraen's eyes dropped closed, and for a moment she looked old, as old as the soil beneath her fingernails, as old as the stones on which she sat. And, with some reluctance, she nodded.

* * *

**Huge** thanks to my reviewers: Puxinette, Tigerlily, Moonbunny77, and Erewyn


	8. Those Things Most Valued

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1  
  
**Chapter 8: Those Things Most Valued**  
  
"No, Haldir. I will not be sent away. You can't do this."  
  
Haldir looked down at where his brother lay, shifting his battered body in agitation, meaning to sit up. He pursed his lips in frustration and kneeled. "Sit still, Orophin." Orophin's anger lent surprising strength to the younger elf and he threw Haldir back. But, he dropped back again, panting in exhaustion, betrayed by his weakened body. His eyes, however, had lost none of their fire as he sent Haldir an angry glare. "I won't go."  
  
Haldir sighed deeply and knelt beside Orophin. "I know you wish to keep fighting. But, I have something much more important for you to do for me. Listen to me," he ordered, and Orophin's eyes shot to his, grudgingly focusing on his brother's face. Haldir's voice softened as he said, "I need you to help Silraen. She trusts you, and there will be many dangers on your road. Take care of her for me. Especially if...if it turns badly for us, if I cannot return to her..."  
  
"Don't say things like that," Orophin growled, looking away.  
  
"We must face these possibilities, Orophin. If I do not come back, I would ask that you watch over Silraen and the children for me. Will you do this?"  
  
"Of course I will." Orophin mumbled.  
  
Haldir nodded in relief, "Thank you," he said simply.  
  
Haldir looked up as a familiar voice reached his ears. "I need three horses and full tack for all of them, and if that means one of my husband's commanders has to walk into battle like everyone else, that is just too bad."  
  
Orophin smiled, "I don't know if you have to worry about anyone taking care of your wife for you. She sounds like she does all right on her own."  
  
Haldir took a deep breath, avoiding Orophin's laughing green eyes. He rose, following the sound of arguing to its source. Silraen and the stable master were debating the division of horses between those who would stay and those who would go, and it would appear the stable master was losing.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Haldir asked, approaching them carefully.  
  
"Yes, everything is fine," Silraen snapped, then turned back to the other elf, "I have three severely injured elves and litters will not suffice if I have no one strong enough to carry them over any distance. I need horses."  
  
"Give her what she needs, please, Nedhal." Haldir ordered, and to Silraen's annoyance, the elf nodded respectfully and scurried away.  
  
"How do you do that?" she said, shaking her head.  
  
"How go your preparations?" Haldir asked softly.  
  
"I wanted to be out of here already," she replied, irritation written clearly on her face, "But we'll be lucky if we've set out by dawn at this rate."  
  
Haldir nodded. "What can I do?" he asked.  
  
Silraen glanced down at the ground, biting her lip, "You could go play with the children," she whispered, "Now, while there's time."  
  
Haldir's heart hitched in his chest, and he closed his eyes against the pain. Could this be the last time he would see his children, hear their laughter, be soothed by their sweet joyfulness? He reached out for Silraen, cupping the back of her head and dropping a kiss to her forehead. He turned away then, to find his children, and make the most he could out of his last minutes with them.

* * *

Silraen had followed Haldir to Miradhel's home. She had turned away as he lifted Halnorel in his arms, sure she could not stand to see him with them, knowing they might never be together like this again. Instead, she entered Miradhel's bedroom. The dim room smelled of smoke from the fire. Strewn about were clothes, jewelry, decorations. Miradhel was busily stuffing a great number of possessions into a large sack. Silraen frowned and stepped further into the room.  
  
"You-you won't be able to carry so much," she said. She went to stand next to the small elf, and gently took a heavy book, an ornate mirror, a carved child's toy from the bag. "You must leave these things behind."  
  
"I cannot," Miradhel whispered, her voice catching. She picked up the mirror, turning it over in her hands with reverence. "My husband gave this to me. And the book, the dagger, this belt, all were his. They are all I have left of him."  
  
Miradhel was crying now, and Silraen's heart went out to her. Would it be any different, if their places were reversed? What if she had lost Haldir, would she not want to hold on to any reminders of him that she could? She placed a hand on Miradhel's shoulder. "We will come back, when it is safe. But for now, we must move swiftly. You can take your memories of him with you. They weigh nothing."  
  
Silraen hugged Miradhel then, and the elder elf sobbed into Silraen's shoulder. Miradhel was so fragile, and Silraen feared she would not survive her first night in the wilds. She feared most of the elves in Caras Galadhon were not meant for such a life. But, they would have no choice but to learn.

* * *

Though he knew there were probably things he could be doing to help his brother, help the other soldiers, Rumil did not care. He had never shirked his responsibilities before, but he found he could not draw himself away from Linaya, not now, not when so much was uncertain. He sat moodily in the window sill, watching her pack. Neither of them had said anything for many long minutes. There was too much to say, neither knew where to start, so they just didn't. Rumil's gaze was drawn to her stomach as she leaned awkwardly over her pack, rearranging the articles of tiny clothing she had made in anticipation of her child's birth. She gazed for a moment at the miniature shirt, studying the moon and stars she had embroidered on the collar. She had envisioned this last stretch of her pregnancy to be a time of joyful rest, of being fawned over by Rumil and bonding with Miradhel and Silraen. She thought that once she had a child, she would no longer feel like an outsider in their family, that she could barter passage into their circle with a new baby.  
  
But, there would be no late night arguments with her husband over baby names or long afternoons lounging by the river. It was going to be grueling climbs over mountains and long cold nights. Her child would be born into a time of war and strife, one new life beginning while so many others would end.  
  
Linaya wandered to the corner of the room, running a graceful hand over the half-finished wall hanging still within her loom. She was a weaver by trade, and had started this tapestry for the nursery months earlier. She would have had just enough time to finish it before she gave birth. But, now it would sit here and collect dust, forgotten, like everything else left unfinished and unsaid by their hasty departure.  
  
Linaya started as she felt Rumil's hands slip around her sides and come to rest gently over her belly. He set his chin on her shoulder, sighing deeply and tracing the patterns of the tapestry with his eyes. It would have been beautiful. The fine threads were woven into the pattern of a starry sky, with doves flitting over the treetops. "You are so talented," Rumil whispered, kissing her ear.  
  
"A lot of good that talent will do me out there in the mountains," she murmured.  
  
"You'll come back and finish it. Soon. Besides, Silraen will watch out for you. She knows how to handle herself out there."  
  
"Rumil," she whimpered suddenly, turning in his embrace, "Rumil, what if the baby comes before this is over? What if I must give birth out there in the wilds?"  
  
"Then you must give birth out there in the wilds. I don't know too much about babies, but I'm pretty sure when they decide to be born there's no stopping them."  
  
"I don't think I can do it without you there." Linaya whispered, her voice weak and shaking.  
  
"Darling, I'm sure this will all be over by then, and you'll give birth right here in our home like we planned. And I'll be here, holding your hand, and I'll cut the cord just like tradition, and we'll be so happy...the three of us."  
  
"But, Rumil, what if—"  
  
"Shh...There's nothing we can do. If I cannot be there when you give birth, then know that my spirit will be there, holding your hand, always beside you. Do you understand?"  
  
Linaya nodded and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight. Rumil blinked quickly, refusing to weep before his frightened wife, but feeling more raw, more defenseless than he ever had before.

* * *

Silraen was lashing sacks of lembas onto the back of one of the horses when she sensed someone watching her. She finished off the knot, jerking hard on the rope to be sure it would hold, and turned.  
  
Lady Galadriel was standing amid the chaos of Caras Galadhon with such striking serenity that Silraen blinked once, shocked by the contrast. Galadriel inclined her head to the south, and to her great annoyance, Silraen felt her feet begin to follow almost without thought. There was so much to be done, she did not have time to...  
  
Silraen had never been allowed here before, but she knew where she was. A stream trickled gently over mossy stones beside a weathered stone pedestal. It was the Lady's mirror. To Silraen's shock, Galadriel took the silver disk that sat atop the pedestal and the gleaming pitcher that sat to the side, and pressed them into Silraen's hands. Silraen tried to flinch away, sure that her lowly hands had no place holding something of such power and legend.  
  
"My-my Lady," she stammered, "What are you doing?"  
  
Galadriel's voice was as even as ever, but there was turmoil in her eyes, "Take them for your daughter. When she is ready, give them to her. She is a very powerful creature."  
  
"But...but, my Lady, won't you need these things? Surely, they will be of some value to you in this fight."  
  
Galadriel smiled softly, "May I show you something, Silraen?"  
  
Silraen nodded, following the Lady again with the awkward but precious load clutched to her chest. They climbed back up the hill, to a horse trough at the back of the stables. "Look into the water," Galadriel ordered.  
  
Silraen met her blue eyes with a frown of confusion, but finally, she stooped over, gazing into the cloudy water. All she could see was the rippling image of her own reflection, and her frown deepened as she saw the black thread holding her forehead together and the angry red edges of the wound. But, a change came, so gradually that she barely noticed it at first, and she saw the wound fade into a jagged white scar. She looked up, and saw that she was no longer in Caras Galadhon. She didn't know...where she was at all. She glanced around in confusion and saw that even the Lady was gone. She was looking down over a wide green valley ringed by jagged mountain peaks, her hands clutched to a rough-hewn wood railing. A lake lay within the trees, its dark blue surface disturbed by the breeze, and she could hear children laughing. She tried to look behind her, but with a flash that took her breath, she was contemplating her reflection again, back in Caras Galadhon, bent double over a horse trough.  
  
"You see, the power is not in the water or the container or the place. It comes through me. So too it will be for your daughter. These trinkets are only for show, they help people to open their minds to what might be seen. They will give her confidence when she is first learning to channel her power."  
  
Silraen nodded, but was still shaken by her vision. There had been something familiar, comforting about the place, and she felt part of her was left there, left in this mystery realm. "Thank you, my Lady," she murmured nodding down at the fine silver items in her arms.  
  
"Good luck, Silraen. Your strength may be the only hope our people have. Keep them well."  
  
Silraen breathed deeply, but felt her jaw shake with nervous energy. "Yes, my Lady," she whispered, and turned away.

* * *

Silraen stood in her bedroom, looking at all the little things she had accumulated, all the possessions scattered about. She could remember how reluctant she had been those first few years to purchase or make anything, her instinct still to keep her life uncluttered. She could not get used to the idea that she did not have to carry all she had on her back, that she could fill her home with things that would never need to be moved again. But, now here she stood, amid those things she had finally brought herself to keep, realizing what a fool she had been. She had let herself get attached to this place, to these meaningless objects, thinking that she could stay here forever. But, forever had proved shorter than she had thought.  
  
She began to turn away angrily, with only a small sack of clothing slung over one shoulder, when she paused. The shelf sat undusted and forgotten, displaying the few precious things that had been in her pockets when she came here. As Silraen approached it, she could see the objects were not where they belonged, and the brush of fingerprints could be seen in the thick film of dust. Only Haldir could reach the shelf, and she frowned, wondering what he had wanted with them. After a moment of silent debate, she jerked the Corsair amulet from the shelf and pulled it over her head.  
  
As the copper pendent settled against her skin, she remembered the day it had come to her. They had been in a marketplace in a southern coastal town, weaving through the crowd, hoping to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Elves were not seen often in these lands and were sometimes treated with suspicion. The amulet had been hanging on a tree branch stuck in a vendor's table, along with many other trinkets. The copper talisman was molded in the shape of a bear, with tiny beads of purple shell strung along the leather cord and a milky green stone set where the heart of the bear would be. Silraen had stopped so quickly upon seeing it that her brother had crashed into her back, cursing in surprise.  
  
Silraen's mother had argued at the frivolous nature of the purchase, but her father had come up to her side, eyeing the jewelry with approval. As the copper caught the sun, glinting in his bottomless blue eyes, he had whispered, "The boy will need it. It will help him to be strong."  
  
Silraen had glanced sharply at her father, hearing the faraway breathiness of his voice that always came when he was seeing things that others could not see. She had blushed in embarrassment, and paid the merchant quickly to break up the tense silence. She never forgot what he said. She always wondered who "the boy" was, and what her father had seen. But, now was not the time to contemplate old mysteries.  
  
Silraen stepped out onto the terrace, picking up her bow and quiver from where they lay on the porch. Haldir had let her keep the sword from the armory, assuring with a smile that she had "earned it." Now it was strapped to her belt, its weight comforting against her hip. As she straightened, she looked down over the city, watching the good-byes, the tears, feeling the fear in the valley like an ominous fog. Linaya and Rumil were there, and Miradhel. Orophin was in a crude wooden litter that would be dragged behind one of the horses. He saw her first, and watched her with pained green eyes.  
  
She did not raise her voice, and yet somehow it resonated through the valley as she said, "Say your good-byes, but I swear to you that I will see us all together again very soon. I know not what we may face on our road. But, I will not lead you astray. Now, head for the gates. We go north."  
  
Haldir was waiting for her as she reached the ground. His blond head was bowed and his eyes were closed. He held Danuriel in his arms, cradling her gently against his broad chest. In some childish way, he thought that if he didn't watch Silraen walk down those stairs it would not be real. But, he felt her hand on his arm and slowly opened his eyes.  
  
"It was not supposed to be like this," he whispered, his blue gaze burning into hers, "We were supposed to live here forever and watch our children grow and maybe they would have children and we would watch them grow. That is how it was supposed to be."  
  
"I know," Silraen's voice shook wildly, "I know." She wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his neck and feeling the downy hair of her daughter brush against her chin.  
  
Haldir's voice reached her again, she felt the rumble of his words where her face rested against his throat. "This has always been right," he said simply, "No matter what else has gone wrong, even when I felt like the world was crumbling around me, being with you has always felt right."  
  
Haldir felt the back of Silraen's hand brush against his chest as she reached for the baby. Reluctantly, he released Danuriel, and watched as Silraen tucked the child carefully into a cloth sling over her shoulder. When the baby was snuggled securely against Silraen's chest, she met Haldir's eyes for one long moment. Then, she reached up, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and pulled his face down for a kiss. She didn't care that the Lord and Lady were there to see, she wouldn't have cared if all the Valar were watching them. She wanted to give Haldir a kiss he would never forget.  
  
When they finally broke apart, faces flushed and gasping for breath, Silraen cast her eyes down. She did not look up, just whispered, "I love you." She brushed past him, taking the reins to the horse that carried Orophin, and without another word, led the people of Caras Galadhon into the hills.

* * *

Huge thanks to my reviewers Puxinette, blue4dogs, moonbunny77 and TigerLily!!! You are so awesome!


	9. The Darkest Night

* * *

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1  
  
**A/N: **I tried to post a few days ago, but this chapter seems to have disappeared. I'm giving it another go, wish me luck!  
  
**Chapter 9: The Darkest Night**  
  
Orophin bit back a groan, tipping his head back against the cloth of the litter as it clattered over a large rock. He would swear before Manwë that Silraen was steering his horse toward every rock on the trail. He pursed his lips, regretting the thought. He should not be angry with Silraen, she was only trying to help him. She could just as easily have left his sorry, crippled hide on the side of the road. Orophin's eyes slipped shut, a frown marring the proud lines of his face. He did not deserve Silraen's care, he had been a fool to allow himself to be injured. He had known his mistake the moment he had made it. He had just driven his sword into the neck of an orc and spun gracefully, drawing it across the side of another. He had been pleased with himself, silently congratulating himself, and his concentration had wavered. He had become arrogant, and that was when he was cut down. It was pathetic, the sort of thing a raw youngster would do. The sort of thing his brother, Captain Haldir, would never do.  
  
"Silraen?" Orophin yelled, "Do you want me to hold Danuriel for a while?"  
  
Anything was better than laying here feeling sorry for himself with only the unbearable pain of his leg for company. His adorable niece would surely lift his spirits. He realized the horse had stopped, but Silraen did not answer. He craned his neck around, his vision partially obscured by the swishing tail of the horse. They had reached the crest of a hill, and Silraen stared across the distant forest with narrowed eyes. She lifted her chin a notch, sniffing the thick afternoon air. "Silraen?" Orophin asked, his senses now heightened too as he saw the concern on her face.  
  
She turned to him, drawing the sleeping child out of the sling. "It is going to storm," Silraen said quietly as she kneeled. "I had hoped it would move off to the south, but we are not going to be so lucky. This will not make for an easy first night."  
  
"What are we going to do?" he asked as he took Danuriel from Silraen. He had never seen Silraen's eyes so hard, so cold with contemplation. He knew he should be comforted by the seriousness with which she was approaching her task, but instead he felt sad. The past days had left so much in ruins, but never had he imagined such a change to come over Silraen. She hadn't smiled all day.  
  
"I'm going to try and get us to the edge of the forest, hopefully we will find some shelter in the hills."  
  
"In less than a day, with this many people?" Orophin asked, unable to camouflage the doubt in his voice.  
  
"We can do it," she said firmly, "But your ride might be even more bumpy when I speed us up."  
  
Orophin caught the small smile that crept across her lips. "You were steering me toward those bumps, weren't you?" he accused.  
  
"No," she said, her smile growing, "I was trying to steer around them, but I think I just ran you into bigger ones in doing so."  
  
Orophin grinned reluctantly, "I appreciate the effort," he admitted.  
  
Silraen reached down, brushing her hand over Danuriel's pale hair, but Orophin could tell it was more for her own comfort than the child's. "Silraen, are you all right?"  
  
Her eyes took on a haunted gleam as she said, "It has only been part of a day, but I miss Haldir so much already. I don't know if I can do this."  
  
Orophin looked away, studying a tree trunk with sudden interest. Silraen's devotion to his brother had always been obvious, but never had it made him feel more lonely than it did right now. If he had been left in the city, there would be no one to miss him. There had never been anyone to fear for him when he went into battle, or show joy at his safe return. There had been no one to rush to his side when he was carried half dead into Caras Galadhon the day before.  
  
Orophin dredged up his most encouraging smile and said, "You are going to be fine. You will see him again soon. That much I know." The smile never reached his eyes, and Silraen noticed this. She searched his face for a long moment, wondering what had brought a sudden darkness to his expression. Deciding it was surely pain from his leg, she resolved to be more careful in leading the horse. She rose, her sharp gaze darting through the trees. "If you need anything, yell," she ordered in a distracted tone, then went back to take the reins.  
  
Danuriel was awake now, and Orophin sat her up on his chest, sticking out his tongue. She giggled wildly, the fog of sleep leaving her eyes. She reached forward, curling her chubby arms around his neck and settling in against him in complete trust. Orophin smiled, and even as he was thrown into the air by a particularly large stone, the smile did not fade. Whatever else he thought was lacking in his life, his family still cared for him. It was funny how one's perspective changed as they held a child, Orophin realized, and kissed Danuriel's crown, silently thanking her for reminding him of what was important.

* * *

"Mama, mama!" Taurnan cried, scampering up the line to his mother's side. She dropped to one knee, her face anxious.  
  
"What is it, is something wrong?" Miradhel had offered to keep the older children with her so that Silraen could scout ahead as she needed. Silraen thought immediately of Halnorel and wondered if a bad episode had taken her again.  
  
"Mama, Grandmother said we must slow down. Linaya is not keeping up and some others are beginning to fall behind." Silraen frowned, meeting Orophin's gaze where he looked back at her. She saw then that Danuriel had fallen asleep again, tucked with great care against his shoulder. But, Orophin looked wan and pale. Silraen bit her lip, finally saying to her son, "Run back to Grandmother and tell her we will take a short break. Tell her to spread word at the back of the line." Taurnan nodded quickly, a look of great seriousness in his wide blue eyes at this important task. In that instant, he looked so much like his father that Silraen knew not whether to laugh or sob. He dashed away, and Silraen felt grateful for his endless energy. If only he could share it with others in their party.  
  
Silraen urged the horse off the path and into the shade. The day had grown unusually humid, and she untied a canteen from the heavy-laden horse. She went to Orophin, urging him to drink. "I should check your wounds. Tomorrow morning I will change your bandages."  
  
Orophin nodded, drawing his wrist across his mouth and wiping away the stray droplets of water. Just lifting his arm seemed to drain him. He felt so weak that all he wanted to do was sleep. "You may have to take the baby back," he whispered, "I am not feeling well and I don't want to drop her."  
  
Silraen studied his face carefully, seeing that his eyes seemed distant and unfocused. She moved down to his leg, and began to unlace the side of his pant leg. Linaya had done a quick clothing alteration before their departure, slitting Orophin's pant leg and lacing it up with a thin strand of leather to make it easier to get at his wound. Silraen untied the simple splint that ran the length of his leg and unwrapped the bandage, finding that despite all the tousling he had endured on the rough path, the stitches had held. She moved to the wound on his side, folding the edges of his shirt up and helping him to sit up just enough so she could unwrap the bandage from around his waist. She pressed her fingers carefully into the puffy sides of the wound, feeling along the skin of his stomach. A small groan escaped Orophin's lips, and she froze. "Don't," he ordered gruffly.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Silraen apologized quickly.  
  
"It didn't hurt just...just leave it be for now, it is fine."  
  
Silraen replaced the bandage and fixed his pant leg. She crawled to his side to retrieve Danuriel. Orophin would not meet her eyes, looking anywhere but at her, not at all like his usual directness. She frowned at his strange behavior, but Danuriel woke and began to fuss, so Silraen thought no more of it. She walked in a circle, bouncing the infant in her arms and singing softly. _Ten more minutes..._she thought, _I'll give them ten more minutes..._

* * *

The leaves whipped over Silraen's head with a sharp snap as she dragged on the reins. The horse was reluctant, tossing his head in defiance. The storm had fallen upon them with startling speed, and they were still far from the plains. Silraen had hoped to find shelter among the boulders scattered along that expanse and camp as a group, but she was going to have to change her tactic. They were going to have to wait it out here.  
  
Silraen was about to turn, to send word back along the line that they could go no further, when a clap of thunder shook the earth beneath her. She felt the reins pull from her hand, the edges of the leather burning her palm as the horse reared. He charged forward from his hind legs, his eyes wild with fear. Silraen gasped Orophin's name, struggling out of the cloth sling and pushing her child into the arms of the nearest elf. Silraen sprinted after the horse, nearly slipping on the slick forest floor in her haste. The horse was hindered by the fallen limbs and roots and even in its panic could not outrun Silraen. She gripped the horse's mane and launched onto his back. She groped around for the reins, nearly thrown to the side from her awkward perch on top of a sack provisions. Finally, she had them, and pulled back firmly, speaking in her most soothing tone to the animal. As he drew to a halt, his chest heaving, Silraen wrenched around, looking for Orophin. To her horror, she found the litter empty.  
  
No, she realized, it was good that he had the sense to roll off of it as soon as the horse spooked. She could only hope he had not been injured in the process. She leapt from the horse and drew him around, calling out with only a hint of panic, "Orophin! Can you hear me?"  
  
Only the screaming of the wind and the loud patter of raindrops answered her. She began running back the way they had come, dragging on the reins with a loud curse.  
  
"Silraen?" The weak yell drew her to a halt, and then she saw him. Orophin was sprawled on his stomach in a patch of ferns. Silraen dropped to her knees beside him.  
  
"Are you all right, are you hurt? I'm so sorry, I should have--."  
  
Orophin looked up, wet leaves sticking to his face, his lips twisted into an almost child-like pout. Silraen burst into sudden laughter at his dejected state, but clapped her hand over her mouth and sobered quickly. Orophin smiled, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter as he imagined how he must look. Silraen dropped the reins and reached down, helping him turn onto his back and drawing his arm over her shoulders.  
  
Miradhel was rushing to them, weaving awkwardly around fallen branches with the children trailing behind.  
  
"Orophin, darling, what happened?" she called.  
  
"It was my fault," Silraen said gruffly, struggling to keep Orophin upright, "I was careless. Could you bring the horse?"  
  
Miradhel took the reins as Silraen steered Orophin back to the group. Silraen could see a cluster of elves huddled together, shivering beneath their cloaks with looks of uncertainty and fear. "Make camp," Silraen said in her most commanding tone, "We will make it no further tonight."  
  
The rain was coming down in earnest now, the treetops swaying wildly in the brutal wind. Silraen helped Orophin sit beside a fallen tree, and quickly assembled a rough tent over him with a square of canvas.  
  
"I have to go help the others," she said quietly, "I don't think they know what to do."  
  
Orophin gave her a tired smile. "I'm fine. Go ahead." His head was tilted back against the mossy bark, the dark wood in sharp contrast to his pale hair. Silraen reached up and brushed a bit of leaf from his cheek. He lifted his head a little, watching her with a slight frown, but she jumped to her feet and was gone.

* * *

The silver flashes of lightning burst in the sky, each illuminating dejected clusters of elves scattered among the trees. Some huddled by the mounds of dirt and splayed roots left by fallen trees, others simply cowered beneath their cloaks and wished they were back in their homes. They silently cursed Silraen, orcs, the Valar, anyone who they might blame for bringing them out into this miserable night. The storm should have moved off by now, but it seemed content to loom above them and hurl sheets of rain and merciless lightning down at them all night.  
  
Silraen pulled Taurnan tighter to her chest as a great clap of thunder drew a whimper from the boy. The children were wrapped up within her cloak, but it had long since soaked through. Danuriel's clammy hand was pressed to Silraen's throat and she felt a sudden shiver run through the baby's tiny body. Silraen bit her lip so hard she nearly broke the skin, curling her body further over her children. She looked up for a moment at the starless sky, and jerked as a cold raindrop fell into her eye. _Tomorrow will be better...Tomorrow has to be better._

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Thanks always to my reviewers: Puxinette, Tigerlily, and moonbunny77!! 


	10. Separation

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1

**Chapter 10: Separation**

Celeborn's brow furrowed deeply as he studied the faded parchment map. Haldir hovered nearby, and tried to hide a yawn behind his hand. He had been awake for three straight nights, and was beginning to feel that his eyes would not focus, that his head was clouded as if he had drank too much wine. Elves could go for many days without sleep, but his body was exhausted from battle and he would not last much longer. Celeborn looked up, narrowing his eyes further at his captain.

"Have you slept, Haldir?"

"Yes," Haldir lied easily, meeting the strong blue eyes of his Lord without hesitation. How could he explain that if he let himself sleep he would dream of Silraen? How could he tell Celeborn that he could not bring himself to re-enter his home, to go near that bed and see Silraen's empty pillow?

"Go home, Haldir. We may need to march in the coming days, sleep in your own bed while you still can. I will tell Rumil to fill you in on anything we decide while you are resting."

"I do not wish to neglect my duties, Lord Celeborn. I feel quite alert, I assure you."

Celeborn smirked at Haldir, "Don't make me laugh. You look like you could keel over at any moment. Go, before you anger me."

Haldir smiled reluctantly, knowing the threat to be hollow. But, he straightened, turning for the doorway . He paused on the terrace of the Great Mallorn, the noon-time sun burning into his tired eyes. A mist was lifting from the soggy ground below, the smell of the previous night's rain still lingering in the air. He had been on patrol in that rain, listening to the thunder rumbling in the distance, praying to every spirit he could think of that Silraen and the children were not out in that storm. The thunder had been nearly continuous, the winds screaming through the treetops with horrifying rage, and Haldir had imagined with nauseating intensity what it must be like for his children, with nowhere safe to turn, no bed to curl up in.

Haldir sighed, turning for the stairs. They had Silraen. She would die before she let anything happen to them, of that he was sure.

He wished only to sleep in a shadowed corner of the armory, or leaning against the wall at the edge of the city, anywhere that was not his home. But, he knew if he was needed, he had to be somewhere easy to find. He squared his shoulders, turning for the place he least wanted to go in all of Arda.

The dark silence of the living room was the most terrible sound Haldir had ever heard. He stood in the doorway, blocking what light might enter the room with his body, and saw a doll sprawled unhappily in the middle of the floor. He took a halting step toward it, seeing other toys strewn about, a pair of Silraen's boots beside a chair, a baby blanket draped carelessly over the arm. The scene was eerie, they had left so quickly that the house looked ready for them to return at any moment, and Haldir bowed his head, swearing for a moment that he heard his son's laughter.

Haldir sat on the edge of his bed, leaning over to remove his boots. They dropped to the floor with a heavy thud that echoed off the walls. Haldir then bowed his head, burying his face in his hands. For many minutes he sat that way, his eyes squeezed shut against the merciless reminders of his loss. He jolted suddenly, realizing he had dozed off and tipped precariously forward. With a grunt, Haldir fell to the side and dropped into the deepest sleep of his life.

* * *

Silraen jerked sharply on the rope, checking that her knots were sound. "All right, take him up."

She scurried up the trunk of the tree, Danuriel tucked in a sling on her back. She watched as the elves below her tugged on the rope, lifting Orophin's litter into the air. As he reached the lowest limb, Silraen caught the frame, guiding it up through the branches.

"This is so humiliating," Orophin grumbled, meeting her eyes.

Silraen laughed, hopping to the next tier of branches and turning him slightly. "You'll be safer up here overnight than on the ground, so get used to it," she spun the frame of his litter and yelled down, "All right, hold him there."

She secured him with two shorter ropes so that he was suspended within his litter from the branches. "Let go," she bellowed, holding her breath as the long rope went slack. The litter held, and she heard Orophin exhale loudly as well. "I told you this would work," she said, pulling the rope from where it was tossed over a large branch and wrapping it into a tight loop.

"I never had a doubt," he said dryly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, pressing a gentle hand to his forehead. He did not seem to have regained his strength after the horse had run away with him in the storm the night before.

"I'm all right," he assured. But, he felt completely exhausted, as if every breath he drew required great effort. He turned his head, managing a smile as Taurnan scrambled along the branch.

"Careful, baby, Uncle Orophin needs to rest," Silraen told her son. Taurnan placed a small hand on her back, peeking into the strip of cloth at his little sister.

"She's asleep." Taurnan whispered.

Silraen looked at Orophin with a soft smile, "I swear she can sleep through anything."

Taurnan tugged on Silraen's shirt, saying, "It's...it's not going to storm again tonight, is it Mama?" There was the slightest shake in his voice and Silraen sat on the branch, drawing him into her arms.

"No, I don't think it will storm tonight."

"The storm was scary, wasn't it Uncle Orophin?"

"Yes, it was. You were very brave, though, your mother told me you were."

Taurnan beamed, turning to look up at his mother in satisfaction. Silraen smiled back, but her focus shifted and she saw Linaya struggling up the branches below her. Silraen set her son on the branch, saying in a distracted tone, "Stay with Uncle Orophin, I'll be right back."

Silraen swung through the leaves with ease, dropping down beside Linaya. "You should have said something, I would have had you hauled up by a rope."

"That's not necessary, I've been climbing trees since I was tiny."

"Yes, but never while you were with child. That belly of yours throws off your center of gravity."

"Thanks for pointing that out," Linaya mumbled, but let out a small cry as she nearly lost her balance. Silraen caught her hand and helped her climb to each limb, until she was safely in the canopy.

"Was the pace better for you today?" Silraen asked as she drew Danuriel forward and settled her against her chest. "I am sorry I went so fast yesterday, but I was hoping to beat the storm."

"Yes, I did fine today," Linaya said, dropping back against the trunk with an audible sigh, "But I'm not as good at this as you are. I think I will only slow us down further as my baby grows."

"Then we will slow down for you," Silraen promised, searching the young elf's face. She looked tired, but otherwise well. Silraen sat on the branch, watching as Linaya removed the pack from her back and tied it to the branch below her.

"You know," Silraen said hesitantly, "When I was expecting Taurnan I would have these wild spurts of energy where I would go out and plant half a field by myself and then sleep for two days straight. It is so funny because now Taurnan is just like that himself. He runs circles around me for most of the day and just passes out by about mid-afternoon."

Linaya chuckled, looking up at where Taurnan was chatting noisily with Orophin. "Ever since I found out I was with child I cannot sleep enough. Does that mean my child will be boring?"

Silraen smiled, "I think it means your child will be obedient and calm. I think it means your child will be perfect."

"Well, one thing is for sure. This child will be big. My stomach is as big as a pumpkin and I still have a lot of pregnancy ahead of me."

Silraen saw a change come over her face then, her blue-green eyes drawn to the top of Danuriel's blond head, staring intently at the silent baby, "I—I had hoped for Rumil to be a part of every step of this pregnancy. He was so happy when he found out he was to be a father," Linaya reached up, whisking a tear from her cheek, "I'm not strong enough to go through this without him."

"Yes, you are," Silraen said vehemently, reaching out to take Linaya's hand, "You have so much strength. I can see it in your eyes. You will see."

Linaya smiled unsteadily, but squeezed Silraen's hand with an impressive grip. Silraen nodded with a warm smile. "I have to scout a little. Keep an eye on Taurnan for me?"

"Of course," Linaya agreed.

Silraen leapt to the branch above them, clutching Danuriel to her, then dashed easily along the branches to the very highest limbs of the canopy. As she climbed, she saw around her the elves of Lothlorien settling in for the night, hiding within the leafy screen, tucking themselves against the tree trunks.

They were at the very edge of a long, treeless valley, but Silraen had decided not to try and push the group across it. She felt it just as well to halt them here, where she might see a great distance from the treetops, then set out refreshed in the morning. Danuriel woke, looking around her at the expansive valley with a delighted giggle. "Good girl," Silraen whispered, "You have no fear, you see joy everywhere. Sometimes I wish I could look at the world through your eyes, Little One."

Silraen looked up again, feeling the cool breeze and hearing the rattle of the leaves below her. Her smooth scan of the horizon caught for a moment and she squinted, focusing her long gaze on the streambed that snaked across the plain. "No," she whispered, feeling her stomach turn.

Little more than black specks on the green expanse, the lurching gait of the orcs was unmistakable. For a moment, she could not move, just watched them with increasing horror and anger. _What if this was all a mistake? What if we should never have left the city? What if Haldir was wrong? _She shook her head briskly, "There's no turning back now," she whispered grimly. She tucked her baby against her and swung into the trees, into the gathering night that closed in about them just as their enemies did.

* * *

Huge thanks to my reviewers TigerLily, Puxinette, and moonbunny77. Love you guys!!!


	11. Forbidden

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter One

**Chapter 11: Forbidden**

The room was dark and cool, the shades drawn and candles left untouched, and the air was charged like before a lightning storm. A figure sat in the corner, on a hard wooden chair, posture perfect even when there was no one there to see. Celeborn blinked quickly, waiting for his eyes to adjust and slowly the gray shadows began to take shape.

"Why do you not let in the light?" he asked, his voice sounding offensively loud in the deep silence of his bedroom. His bedroom, and yet he felt a stranger in it, as if he was an intruder.

Galadriel did not answer, just glanced at him, her gaze so sharp he felt like a child due for a scolding. She was so regal, so otherworldly, and just as he had countless times before, Celeborn wondered what was so different about her, what it was he could not fathom in her soul and why in Arda had someone so special chosen him?

Celeborn stepped purposefully across the room, kneeling before her. He took her hands from where they rested on the arms of her chair and pressed them between his. They were cold.

He stared at their joined hands, unable to meet her eyes as he said, "Why is it that sometimes when I look in your eyes I see a person I don't even know? Who is this creature of legend everyone else sees in you, when all I really want is the woman who used to walk with me to the hill and watch the deer until it got dark? The woman who cried with me the day our child was born, who used to rub my shoulders before we went to bed. Where does she go?"

"I cannot be your wife right now, I must be Lady Galadriel. Others are depending on me. They need my gift of sight."

Celeborn stood, pacing the room in frustration, "Why? So you can tell us to expect another attack? I don't exactly need clairvoyance to see that coming. Your sight only tells me things I already know." Celeborn, whose back was turned, did not see her wince at his biting words. "I should have sent you with Silraen, sent you to safety, for your visions tell us nothing a seasoned warrior couldn't deduce on his own."

"I can tell you Silraen still lives." Galadriel said, fighting for calm as Celeborn berated her. At this, he turned, his demeanor softening slightly. "Do you know where they are?"

"No," Galadriel answered, "All I know is that she and Haldir's children are still alive. I have seen only that."

Celeborn frowned, guilt flooding his heart. "You have sat here all this time, trying to see into the very essence of darkness, trying to help our fight, and I criticize you. Darling, I am sorry."

Galadriel smiled, finally rising and going to him. Celeborn watched her in adoration, seeing that finally his wife had returned to him, if only for a little while. He drew her into his arms and she rested her cheek against his chest.

"Even if we win this fight," she whispered shakily, "It will not be without grave losses. There are those in your army who will never be reunited with their families. There are those who travel with Silraen who will be widows and orphans before the summer."

"Who?" Celeborn asked, gripping her arms and setting her away from him, "Haldir? Will Haldir fall?"

Galadriel's face twisted, her eyes slipping shut, and she pressed against him again, "I do not know. It is still hazy."

* * *

Orophin could sense something was wrong in the way Silraen moved, the urgent twisting of her agile form as she swung through the branches toward him.

"A company of orcs nears us from the plains," she whispered on a chill voice, "Not large, maybe twenty."

"Have everyone take cover in the canopy and keep quiet," Orophin ordered, sounding for a moment very much like Haldir. "Maybe they will pass us by. Do they show any sign that they are coming for us?"

"No," Silraen said, "No—I don't think so. I think it's just by chance that they pass this way."

Orophin nodded shortly, "With any luck they will keep on their way and never know we are here."

Silraen met his eyes with the slightest nervousness, "Orophin, what if we—"

"Don't even say it, Silraen."

"There are only twenty, we could defeat them easily, I think. Surely they go to join another assault on Caras Galadhon. We can stop them here, so Haldir and the army have less to fight later. I cannot sit idly by and—"

Orophin's warning glare stopped her mid-sentence.

"And what would you do should things go badly for you? The army will not come charging to you rescue this time. You are to keep these people safe, now is not the time to take foolish risks. This is not your fight, Silraen."

"So, you are content to lay there and let them walk away?" Silraen asked, contempt tainting her voice.

"Compared to fighting, yes, I am very content to stay right here. I don't want to fight, no soldier really does."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Because my father did, because my brothers do. Because it is my duty. Not because I like it." He met her eyes, his green gaze holding her, inescapable, "Now, you have a duty, Silraen. Get these people to safety. That is all."

Silraen grunted in frustration, swinging away and leaving only the slightest fluttering of leaves to show she had ever been there.

Orophin leaned as far as he dared over the edge of the litter, watching as Silraen slapped the horses, sending them galloping to safety deeper in the forest. As she spread word to the scattered elves, they disappeared into the treetops, many wrapping the gray Lorien cloaks about them and becoming nearly invisible, even to Orophin's trained eyes.

The orcs were nearly across the plains by the time Silraen had her own family hidden in the branches. Linaya was curled against the trunk, wide-eyed and nearly shaking, Taurnan and Halnorel hiding within her cloak. Miradhel was in a higher branch, whispering to the baby and praying the child did not start wailing and give away their presence. Orophin was quite low in the branches, but there was no time to move him. Silraen scurried down to him, drawing her bow as the first crashing footsteps of the orcs could be heard.

"Don't shoot first," Orophin hissed, "They haven't smelled us yet."

Silraen said nothing, just gripped her bow so hard her fingernails bit into the wood. Her heart was beating a rapid, uneven rhythm, as if she had just sprinted up a hill. She stole a glance at Orophin, who was completely calm, looking not even for a moment at the orcs beneath them, instead studying her.

Silraen looked down, watching the noisy procession of orcs crash violently through the underbrush, some hacking aside branches with their primitive swords. They passed directly below the Lorien elves, and Silraen felt panic well in her heart. _It cannot be chance. What are the odds they would choose this route? They are here for us. They will kill us. Surely they smell us...surely they see us..._

The same frantic wonderings were still running through Silraen's mind many minutes after the heavy footsteps of the orc regiment had faded into the forest. It was not until she felt Orophin pry the bow from her hand that she finally dared to move. Her fingers were stiffened into a claw, her knees screaming with pain when she stood, trying to dispel the tension of their brush with disaster. Orophin's hand was warm as it took her own, and she sank down against him without another thought. His litter spun a little with the added weight, but he did not care, he just wrapped his arms around Silraen. "You did well. I thought for sure you were going to take a shot at them."

"See, I have some self-control," she replied, smiling against his neck. Speaking of self-control, Silraen resisted the urge to burrow deeper into Orophin's arms. He held her with surprising strength considering his injuries and Silraen drew in a deep breath of his scent. He even smelled healthier, like soil and sunshine and leaves.

Orophin saw Miradhel climbing down to them, and avoided the disapproving glare of his mother. His gaze strayed to the baby in her arms, a baby all agreed had Haldir's eyes. Orophin released Silraen, guilt turning to a knot in his stomach. He only meant to lend support to Silraen, that was all. But, with a frown, he admitted to himself that it was more than that. It had always been more than that.

* * *

Taurnan was tired. After the smelly orcs had nearly found them the night before, Mother had herded them all out of the trees and made them walk again. The entire night they had walked, in the opposite direction of the orcs in case they picked up the scent of elf further on and turned back. Taurnan stared at the dull gray horizon and knew it would be dawn soon.

How he wanted to rest, but he dared not complain to his mother. His grandmother and aunt had told him over and over not to trouble her, for she had to think and make sure they stayed on course.

But, Taurnan was hungry, cold and exhausted. Surely if his mother saw him so completely miserable, she would not have the heart to be cross with him for seeking her. With a whimper, Taurnan tore his hand from Linaya's grip and charged up the line, past elves equally as weary and cold.

"Mama!" he cried, collapsing against her side, "Mama, I can't walk anymore!"

Silraen smiled, "That's funny, because you seem to be able to run just fine."

Taurnan pouted and Silraen smiled indulgently down at him. She kneeled, putting an arm over his thin shoulders and pointing to a distant hilltop.

"You see that hill? We will camp on the far side of it. Do you think you can make it that far?"

"No," he said firmly.

Silraen narrowed her eyes at him, her tone conspiratorial as she said, "I'll tell you what...you can ride on the horse to the top of the hill, then will you get off and walk the rest of the way down?

The pout did not budge from his small wet lips as he reluctantly said, "All right."

"Good man," Silraen praised, putting her hands under Taurnan's arms and lifting him onto the horse. When he was settled among the sacks of lembas bread, she set off again. A chilly dawn spread over the plains and Silraen sighed. She was relieved that she had convinced her son to keep going, but she gazed at the hill with baleful eyes. With each step it seemed only to get further and further away. The brittle yellow grasses seemed to stretch on forever, never breaking, never ending, swallowing them up.

* * *

"Time to change your bandages."

Orophin looked down, reluctance written clearly on his face, and he quietly said, "They will keep another day, we can leave them."

"I should do this now, before I go on watch."

Orophin looked around at the rough camp being constructed in this small depression between three hills. Silraen had wisely ordered no fires, and elves sat propped up by their packs, moodily nibbling lembas. "If you go on watch, when will you sleep?"

Silraen's eyes tightened, and she paused for a moment in digging around in her pack. "Don't worry about me."

"Someone should."

Silraen just shook her head, crawling to Orophin's side and drawing his arm over her shoulders. She eased him off of the litter with a degree of awkwardness, helping him sit against a lone boulder. Orophin lifted his body up by his arms, trying to find a comfortable position and grunted as his broken leg was jarred. Silraen reached for him in alarm.

"I'm fine," he assured gruffly, but slid his hand up to where Silraen gripped his shoulder. He squeezed her hand for the briefest moment. Silraen gave him a warm grin, but there was a tiredness in her eyes, and always that lingering concern for him.

Silraen thought he would let the prior topic drop, but she was not so lucky. "You are going to have to learn to share these tasks, Silraen," Orophin urged, "You are going to have to trust everyone else to help you."

Silraen's face twisted in regret, "I know," she dropped to her knees and began to unlace the side of his pant leg, "It's not that I don't trust them...well, maybe it is that I don't trust them."

Orophin ducked his head, trying to catch her gaze, "You should give them all a chance, Silraen. Some of them might surprise you."

She nodded reluctantly, leaning in closer to study his wound. Orophin sat back and remained obediently still, watching Silraen closely, but braced himself as her hands touched his leg. It was not against the pain that he steeled himself, that he was growing used to. It was the soothing warmth of her skin, the slight roughness of her palms abrading him that he could barely stand. She didn't know, sitting there with her beautiful face pinched in concentration, she didn't know what she did to him.

"Has there been much soreness where the stitches are?" Silraen asked.

"A little," he replied softly. Silraen slipped her hand beneath his knee with such incredible gentleness, lifting his leg to unloop the bandage from around it. The edges of his wound were still an angry red, the jagged pieces of skin pulled together by thick black stitches. As always, her eyes darkened as she looked at it, feeling Orophin's pain along with him for a moment.

"It will scar badly, I fear."

"It's all right," Orophin said quietly, "As long as I'm walking again soon."

"Orophin, the skin hasn't even healed, it will be some time before your bones can carry you."

Orophin frowned deeply, and Silraen dredged up an encouraging smile, "But, you have me to carry you, and Lightning here," she motioned to the horse where he was crunching away at the rough grass, "Between the two of us, you many never need your legs again."

Orophin's green eyes twinkled, "Don't let me get too used to that. I may just let you serve me."

Silraen narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion, "You would, wouldn't you?"

She wrapped a fresh bandage around Orophin's thigh, smoothing the cloth with the utmost care. Orophin's frown returned. He was going to have to learn to change his own bandages very soon. Silraen's tender attention was far too distracting.

Orophin looked up, and standing beside the horse was Halnorel. She watched him with hooded eyes, her pale green skirt whipping around her legs in the breeze. Orophin tried to smile at her, but she continued to stare at him with cold and knowing eyes. She was only a child, but sometimes there was an aura about her of something ancient. Orophin glanced away, over the dreary morning, and wished she would stop looking at him like that.

* * *

Thank you so much to my reviewers: Puxinette, TigerLily, moonbunny77, and The Lady of Light!!!

* * *


	12. The Revered One

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1

**A/N**: I am so sorry for the long drought, it was inexcusable. Thanks to all who still remember me!

**Chapter 12: The Revered One**

* * *

Rumil moved a few pieces of undercooked carrot around on his plate, herding them moodily in circles with no intention of consuming them. It had been two weeks since the city had been emptied. Haldir sat across from him, gnawing with similar displeasure on some tasteless rabbit meat. He could not eat vegetables, they made him think of Silraen, so he ate lembas and meat, and those he ate rarely. He looked up at Rumil, dredging up a weak smile for his younger brother. "Not hungry?"

"No," Rumil replied gruffly, "This waiting, this blasted waiting has made me lose my appetite."

"Me too."

Rumil let out a loud breath. "Eight months."

"Hmm?"

"Linaya is eight months along today. My baby is eight months old today."

Haldir could not resist a snort of laughter, "You know that? By heart? I'm sure you already know this, but you are a better husband than I will ever be. I didn't know when Silraen was due until she got this panicked look in her eye and started walking to the healer's talan."

Rumil laughed, his bright blue eyes dancing, "You are terrible. And lucky. Lucky she hasn't left you."

Haldir's voice dropped to a whisper, "She did...just not the way I had expected she would." Haldir ground his jaw for a moment, "They've all gone away."

"You'll see her again. And, when you do, you'll get a chance to stop being such a worthless lout of a husband. You'll get a second chance to do it right...like I did from the beginning."

Haldir nodded, a sardonic grin crossing his face. "Following the example of my baby brother...there's something very wrong with that. It is a blow to my pride how much better you are than me at almost everything. It's downright wrong. You're better on a horse, better with a sword, you're a better shot—"

"I'm better looking."

Haldir's scowl deepened, "I wouldn't go that far."

"I would."

Haldir's sharp retort died in his throat as he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He looked up, seeing one of his scouts standing anxiously behind him, noticeably out of breath. Haldir rose, walking to the doorway. Rumil heard the urgent whispering of the scout, watched Haldir's face darken as he turned away. Rumil stood slowly, leaving his meager meal uneaten and forgotten. He fell in step beside his brother, waiting for the older elf to speak.

"They're close. A large force of orcs is closing in on the city." Haldir stopped his determined march across the catwalk, turning to Rumil. "What reason do we have to stay here? What is there left to protect? I say we march out to meet them. What do you think?"

A cold grin crossed Rumil's lips. "I think that's the best idea I've heard in weeks. Shall I begin assembling the soldiers?"

"No," Haldir said, gripping his brother's shoulder, "You're going to saddle a horse."

* * *

Haldir's feet passed silently over the dry grasses of the forest floor. The footfalls of Lorien's army were little more than a soft murmur behind him, and he glanced carefully around him, sensing they drew close to their enemy. Despite their dire errand, Haldir felt relieved. Finally he had something to do, some excuse to leave the city walls. The soulful songs and ringing laughter of the treetops was gone, and all that remained was silent despair. Haldir felt surely it would drive him mad.

Haldir glanced back between the gray trees, catching a glimpse of glowing white robes. Celeborn had feared to leave Galadriel alone in the city. She agreed to stay behind the main battle with an escort. The shame in her eyes had dulled them, and Haldir knew she still thought of her failure to protect the city in the first battle. Not even Celeborn seemed able to console her.

He called for a halt, letting the men rest while he sent more scouts ahead. As others found logs or boulders to rest briefly on, Haldir stood, watching the retreating backs of the scouts and hoping they might return with good news, good counsel, something he could use. He was about to turn away, to attend to other duties, when he heard arrows sing from either side of one of the scouts, catching him in the middle. He let out a strangled cry, pitching forward. They would march no further. The fight would be here.

Haldir caught the arm of Meldor, who was known for he speed as a runner, and hissed, "Go back and warn the cavalry. Tell them to circle to the river and come back at the orcs from the north. Go now!"

Meldor set off at a dead sprint and Haldir thought of Rumil and Celeborn, who commanded the small mounted force trailing the main army. He had held them back until now, but if the force they faced was as formidable as the scouts reported, cavalry could be just the advantage the Galadhrim needed. He prayed it would be enough.

* * *

Linaya started from a deep sleep, and reached for Rumil in the dark. All she found to her right was a handful of brittle yellow grass and the chill earth beneath it. Linaya sighed, feeling tears prick her eyes for what seemed the thousandth time in the two weeks they had been in the wilds.

But then Linaya remembered why she had woken as another persistent kick erupted within her belly. She smiled, thinking surely this child would grow to be a warrior like Rumil and his uncles. She could feel already that it was a son she carried, she did not know how.

Linaya looked up to see Miradhel watching her in the faint moonlight. She wore a tired smile as she leaned back against a rock, her cloak drawn tight around her.

"Your child is restless?" the elder elf astutely observed. Linaya nodded with a nervous grin. Always Miradhel had intimidated her, made her unsure of herself. Linaya knew she and her mother-in-law were undeniably similar, and yet there remained a chasm between them. Even Silraen, with her rough ways, was closer to Miradhel and did not fear to speak her mind around the elf. It was clear to Linaya why Silraen was accepted and she was not. Silraen had given Miradhel grandchildren, three of them, and each of them perfect. Soon, Linaya too would have completed that rite of passage, and yet she still feared she would be unwelcome. She realized then the other difference between herself and Silraen. Silraen had married the independent, almost aloof Haldir, while Linaya loved the youngest son, who was doted upon by his mother and brothers alike, treated with reverence even now. Not even Galadriel herself would be good enough for Rumil in their eyes.

Such thoughts brought to Linaya a sour mood. She sat up, thinking to go for a walk, get away from the group for a while, but Miradhel's voice stopped her short. "What are you having?"

Linaya frowned, eyeing the elf in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Boy or girl?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. A mother just knows."

Linaya could not resist the watery smile that spread across her face as she whispered, "Boy. It is a boy."

Miradhel chuckled, her eyes bright as she said, "I knew Haldir and Orophin were boys. But, your Rumil, I thought he'd be a girl right to the moment he was born."

Linaya laughed, shifting her awkward weight, "Were you disappointed?"

"No," Miradhel said, her gaze growing distant. "No, he was a beautiful baby. I was very happy. And, when the boys' father died a few years later, he was what sustained me. He was such a happy child, even as I mourned he could make me smile."

"Rumil never speaks of his father."

"He barely knew him," Miradhel quietly replied.

"What was he like?" The question escaped Linaya's mouth before she could stop it, and she bit her lip, fearing she had gone too far.

But, Miradhel simply looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "He was strong. Of all things that could be said of him, that was what I always remember. He was strong, and he passed that strength on to his sons. And so to your son, I am sure."

Linaya glanced around at the wind-battered plains, the infinite expanse of grass and emptiness and said, "He will have to be strong. In these lands and these times, there will be no other choice."

* * *

_Where is the blasted cavalry? _Haldir wanted to scream over the noise of battle, but instead settled on a mumbled string of curses. A short but quick orc was proving strangely difficult to kill, and the dull-edged dagger already lodged in Haldir's thigh was slowing him down. He could feel blood beginning to pool in his boot as it trickled down from his wound and his scowl deepened. He hated having wet boots.

The hoofbeats that rumbled from the trees, more felt than heard, lifted Haldir's spirits. He whipped his sword across the orc's middle, finally ending their awkward dance, and spun to see the cavalry. They pounded into the midst of the battle at a full gallop, disrupting what little organization the orcs had, scattering them to be finished by the rest of the warriors. Haldir thought he caught a glimpse of white-yellow hair and a stern jaw, possibly Rumil, but in the chaos of battle could have been another soldier. But, Haldir felt buoyed by even that brief look at one of his brothers, felt pride that they fought on together against these vast waves of evil.

Haldir staggered back for a moment, his vision swimming as he turned his head too quickly. Did he have another injury? How much blood had he lost? He was unsure. He lifted his sword, a sluggish delay in the movement that even he noticed. He parried an orc's strong strike just in time. He swung back, but the force nearly set him off balance and he dropped to one knee. It was a fatal mistake; he knew that, he knew he had just sealed his own fate. But, he watched with detached amazement as the orc's head dropped to the ground before his eyes, followed quickly by the body.

"Captain, you are injured," Thellendur's deep voice reached through the haze of disorientation that surrounded Haldir's senses. "Stay down, Captain. The battle is almost over, the enemy is fleeing. I will fetch a healer, do not..."

Haldir's attention wavered as the scream of a dying horse rattled his ears. He winced, looking through the trees to the retreating orcs, many of them injured and confused. But, as they left this field of defeat, they caught a cavalry soldier and fell upon him like a storm, merciless, pouring their unnatural rage upon him. Haldir did not have to see who it was they dragged from his horse. He knew. It was his brother.

For a moment of utter shock, Haldir watched the orcs' blades rise and fall, piercing the elf at their feet. He waited for a scream of pain, but when he finally heard it, he realized it was his own voice. He struggled to his feet.

He had only sprinted halfway to his brother when the orcs lost interest in him, crashing through the woods in panic. Haldir thought he saw one of the orcs hold up a severed hand, waving it in triumph as if to taunt and pain only Haldir. But, surely it belonged to someone else, it was not Rumil's. Rumil might be hurt, but he would be all right...in time...

Haldir could not see beyond the body of Rumil's black horse. He skirted around the animal, nearly tripping over one of its sprawled legs. He cocked his head as he saw Rumil, saw the proud blue eyes that now held no pride, no fear, nothing. They stared glassily at the gray-blue dawn, at the softly rustling leaves, without actually seeing them. Haldir focused on those empty eyes, knowing that if he looked at the rest of his mutilated body he would wretch, knowing he would be unable to bear it. Haldir had learned long ago that death rarely involved noble speeches and final promises. And so it was with his brother. Whatever Rumil had meant to say before his life was stolen would remain unsaid. For, he was already dead.

Haldir sank down beside Rumil's body, afraid to touch him lest it finally seem real to him. Better to keep a distance and believe for a while that it was all a disgusting nightmare. A memory came to him, unwanted and unbidden, of Rumil as a small child. Haldir and his mother had put Haldir's mail and helmet on the boy, and he proudly wielded a wooden spoon as a weapon. _You will be a great warrior,_ Haldir had said, _You will be invincible._

But, he was not. Oh, Eru, he was not. Haldir couldn't breathe, the magnitude of his loss falling upon him with sudden fury. He reached for his brother's remaining hand, squeezing it tight and hoping in vain Rumil would squeeze back. But, he did not.

Haldir hung his head, whimpering softly at the wrenching pain in his chest. This was wrong. Rumil was to be a father, was to fight on and someday replace Haldir as Captain. He couldn't just...he couldn't just die.

"Captain, you are hurt. Come with me, we must—"

"Get away from me," he snarled, seeing in the edge of his vision several pairs of boots surrounding him, intruding on this time with his brother. A strong hand encircled Haldir's arm, which was wet with blood from another wound he had not noticed.

"Don't touch me," he yelled, tearing his arm away, "You wretched bastard, you just stay away from me. All of you, get away from me!"

Haldir gripped tighter to his brother's arm as the soldiers tried again to lift him away.

"I will not leave him! I must stay with him!"

In his struggles, Haldir saw someone who did not belong. This person was clothed not in blood-encrusted armor but sparkling white robes. Haldir stilled, watching Lady Galadriel approach them over the quiet battlefield. She stepped over the fallen, but not a drop of blood could be seen on her skirt or boots, as if dirt itself dared not stick to her.

When she reached Haldir, she looked down at him where he was on his knees in defeat. She placed her hands on either side of his grimy face, tipping it up. In her bottomless blue eyes there was a sympathy and caring such as Haldir had never before seen. He rose awkwardly, and Galadriel wrapped her arms around him. Haldir did not weep, but leaned into the tall she-elf, dropping his face into her shoulder. The slightest tip of her head signaled the soldiers to remove Rumil's body and all solemnly moved away. Haldir and Galadriel stood alone between the silent trees as the sun rose golden in the east.

* * *

"Get away from me," Halnorel screeched, brushing off Silraen's hands frantically, backing up against the lone, gnarled tree on this expansive grassland. Silraen pursued her, ducking her head to look in her daughter's eyes and seeing they were wild and unfocused. She was not with them anymore. She was somewhere else.

"Don't touch me. You wretched bastard, you just stay away from me. All of you, get away from me!"

Silraen drew back as if stung. She had never heard her child curse so. Half the camp had now been awakened by Halnorel's screaming, and Silraen approached her again, trying to calm the child. "Where are you? What do you see?"

"I will not leave him! I must stay with him!"

"Who?" Silraen feared the answer, "Who will you not leave?"

She took a step closer to Halnorel, falling to her knees and drawing the child into her arms. Halnorel clung to her, whispering softly, "He's gone. He's gone."

"What is happening?" Miradhel rushed toward them, Linaya close behind. Upon seeing Linaya, Halnorel dropped from her mother's arms, staring at Linaya in the sudden sunlight of dawn. Her face twisted and she shook her head insistently. Tears poured down her face, sobs wracking her body, and she turned to the side and wretched.

Silraen stared up at Linaya for a moment, her pale eyes wide, then turned to her child. She pulled Halnorel up, wiping her daughter's mouth with her sleeve and settling the girl in her lap. Halnorel squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face into Silraen's chest, as if the very sight of Linaya caused her great pain.

Silraen looked again at Linaya, standing confused and uncertain, rubbing a nervous hand over her huge belly. Silraen knew what her daughter had seen. She did not know how, but it became ruthlessly clear to her. She sighed, squeezing Halnorel tighter and kissing the top of her blond head.

* * *

**Thanks to my awesome reviewers queerquail, Tigerlily, Puxinette, and sar!**


	13. The Aftermath

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1

**Chapter 13: The Aftermath**

Haldir turned away from Galadriel, never meeting her eyes, and it was then that she saw the dagger handle protruding from Haldir's leg.

"Haldir, let me take a look at that, you..."

But, he was staring at something in the distance. Her mouth dropped open as Haldir tore the dagger from his own flesh and hurled it across the battlefield. It lodged solidly in the forehead of a badly wounded orc that had been trying to get to his feet. She looked back at Haldir, at the ice gathering at the edges of his blue eyes. "My leg will be fine," he growled.

She watched him limp away, blood dripping from his fingertips from a gash in his upper arm. His back was held proudly, but it clearly exhausted him, he looked both formidable and fragile at the same time. He tore one of his sleeves off, a jerky, violent motion and stopped just long enough to tie it around his leg. He was Captain again, always, and barked orders to pile the orcs and bury their own fallen, to get litters for the wounded and chase down their retreating enemies.

He caught the reins of a wandering horse and swung into the saddle. Reluctantly, coldly, he looked down at the hand that rested on his leg, gripping his armor. "Let me go, my Lady."

"Someone else can go, Haldir, you should not have to..."

"I am their Captain," he snapped, too numb to regret his curtness. "If I do not lead them, who will? You? Where has your power been? Where was it today?"

He wrenched the horse's head around without hearing her answer, and Galadriel jerked back so as not to be trampled. She stood for only a moment more, watching as he drove the horse mercilessly on, his armor clattering over his shoulders, seeming to care very little if anyone joined him. Then, Galadriel turned away, to treat those who were wounded in body, for she could do little for one wounded in the heart.

* * *

The faces of the orcs were beginning to run together in Haldir's mind, he couldn't tell them apart anymore. He had slain many that day, and as he looked back on it, he began to see the elvish features of the orcs, so foreign, yet so disturbingly familiar. It was never spoken of among elves, their ancient connection to the orc-kind, but he could not help but think of it now. Haldir looked down at the sprawled body of an orc he had just killed, and kicked it over with his boot. It was the eyes. He could see there his own eyes if ever they became twisted and enraged, if ever they felt a darkness elves should never feel. Haldir was glad there was not a looking glass nearby, for he feared his eyes looked no different at this moment from the eyes of all the orcs he had killed. The same nameless anger, the same desire to destroy and cause pain had turned his gaze to that of a wild creature, he had nearly crossed that line that divided elf-kind from the more base creatures that grunted and shuffled along these lands. Today, he was no better than them. Maybe he never had been.

A large group of orcs had broken away, if he didn't take after them now...he searched through the tree trunks and shredded underbrush with his eyes, looking for his horse, trying to remember where it had run. He spun around, but everything around him seemed shaky and blurred while a roaring, rushing sound clouded his ears. He stepped to the side, regained his balance, and stumbled forward, not sure where he was going. He managed to stagger a few steps before he dropped to all fours. His sword fell before him, and in the gleaming metal of the blade, Haldir saw himself. The eyes, the unblinking eyes he had imagined to be wild and evil did not stare up at him. Instead, in his own eyes, he saw pain, he saw exhaustion, he saw defeat. His chest tightened as he refused to weep, and the eyes began to fade. His injuries finally overtaking him, Haldir collapsed onto the damp forest soil, wishing for death.

* * *

Halnorel scampered between the slow adults, giggling wildly as her brother tagged her. She spun around and sprinted after him, determined not to be outdone by the younger elfling, but was soon panting with the effort.

"Taurnan, I'll get you yet!" she called.

Silraen smiled quietly, trudging along as her children played. Miradhel walked beside her, and said, "Halnorel looks well today."

"Yes, she seems to spring back faster after each of her...bad spells, and I am glad for that small blessing. The Lady had told me these visions are very confusing for a child. But, she will grow stronger over time."

"And you?" Miradhel asked with a sidelong glance, "How are you feeling today?"

"I am fine," Silraen lied. The truth was she was deeply troubled. Even after she had managed to calm her daughter, a nagging disorientation had plagued Silraen. Something was wrong, that much she knew, but at first she could not name it. Then she realized, Haldir was quiet. She was not powerful enough to communicate with him, but even across all the miles, she could sense him. It was not a sound she could hear, it was more like the murmuring of a voice in the next room, a sound that is more felt than truly heard. She could never make out the words, but it comforted her just to know that he still breathed. But, today, there was nothing. Something had happened back in Lorien, to Rumil, to Haldir, or to both, but for the sake of her family's peace of mind she did not speak of it.

Silraen pulled back on the bridle of the pack horse, and sent back word that they would halt for a meal. It was early yet, but her feet felt heavy and she wanted only to sit for a moment. She was untying a sack on the horse's back when she felt eyes on her.

"What is wrong, Silraen?"

She tried so hard to avoid Orophin's green gaze, to pretend she had not heard and continue with her work, but finally she gave in.

"I am worried about Halnorel. That is all." The distracted glaze over her eyes revealed that it was more than that, but Orophin did not press the matter.

"So, where are we headed anyway?" As he spoke, Orophin gripped the rough-hewn pole making up one side of his litter and began pulling himself to his feet.

"What in Manwë's name are you doing?" Silraen gasped, hurrying to his side. She tried to urge him back to the ground, but he brushed her hands aside as gently as he could.

"See," he said, standing on his good leg and swaying a little, upright, but barely. "Nothing to worry about."

He tipped a little too far to one side, and Silraen caught him, bracing a shoulder against his chest and forcing him back onto the litter, "You've made your point. You are getting stronger all the time. Just warn me before you do anymore demonstrations."

"Where are we going?" Orophin asked again, "You do have somewhere in mind, don't you, or are you making this up as we go along?"

From anyone else, such doubt would have seemed an insult, but Silraen looked down at Orophin's kind face and knew he asked only out of honest curiosity. She smiled slightly as she noticed for the first time that the dull pallor of his skin was gone and he seemed almost as he had once been.

"It doesn't have a name," she began, looking out over the featureless plains with an unfocused gaze, "It is a very deep valley far into the mountains. When you are there, you feel like you are in a place no one has ever seen before, that with every footstep you are touching soil no foot has ever passed over before. My father showed it to me, he told me that it would be a very safe place should someone need a safe place to be. He showed it to me two days before he died."

"You've never spoken of your father before," Orophin said quietly, "I've never even heard his name."

"He was...impractical," Silraen said, setting her jaw as tears sparkled suddenly in her eyes, "He cared only for seeing new places, learning new languages, he didn't always think about things like finding food or getting out of the rain. My brother and I had to take care of such things. He was a fool. But, he..." Silraen hesitated, and the faintest smile flashed across her face, "He showed me the most beautiful places. He was drawn to beauty. On a bare mountainside he could find the single flower that clung to the rock. He had long since released his grip on this world and this life. He existed above it, outside of it, always with one eye in the distance. Long before he died, he had let go."

Silraen shook her head, ashamed for revealing so much. She turned away, meaning to check on Linaya, but then she looked back. Orophin watched as the restless stone-gray clouds rushed behind her, the wind whistling around them both. "His name was Daemenel."

* * *

The light, though diffuse, hurt Haldir's eyes and he grunted, tipping his head to the side. He squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing where he was or how he had gotten here, but then he remembered...by the Valar how it hurt to remember. How long would it be like this, that he would wake and for one blissful moment forget that his brother was dead, only to remember? And, every morning as the truth seeped back into his mind he would feel anew the grief and misery, like he was staring down at Rumil's corpse for the first time...again.

Haldir tried to sit up, only to find his body too weak to respond. He lifted his back only inches from the pallet on which he lay before he dropped back with a groan. "How long was I out?" He asked Celeborn without looking at him. Celeborn sat patiently in a chair a few feet away, sharpening a dagger.

"Almost two days," he replied.

"Tell me you're joking," Haldir growled, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and standing, feeling a wave of nausea shake through him, but steadfastly ignoring it.

"My wife will have my hide if I don't make you rest."

He did not draw even a grin from Haldir, who simply said, "What do the scouts report?"

"Our enemies are regrouping. They will return."

"Let them," Haldir said with surprising control, "Let them attack twenty more times, a hundred more times, it doesn't matter. They won't enter this city again until every last elf here is dead."

"Your brother was a great warrior," Celeborn said with great care.

"Don't speak of him," Haldir snapped, his sharp gaze cutting across Celeborn like a blade. "Don't ever speak of him again."

"We will sing songs of him, when this is over. We will not forget."

"No songs. Nothing. Leave it alone." Haldir saw his overshirt folded neatly at the foot of the bed and jerked it over his head, glad for the moment that he could hide behind the cloth and not have to see the world, which seemed now only ugly and dirty to him.

"The wraith," Haldir mumbled, looking around for his armor and finding it nowhere in sight, "The ringwraith was not with them. Why?"

"I don't know." Celeborn had set the dagger aside, and was watching Haldir prowl unsteadily around the room, groping for furniture as his knees began to shake. Celeborn rose, gripping the sides of Haldir's arms as he said, "Galenos has assumed command and we do not expect any more activity for a few days at least. Just rest."

"No," Haldir grunted, trying to step away from Celeborn, but succeeding only in losing his balance. He reached back as he fell, caught the edge of a small table, and it slipped out under his weight. He crashed down in heap, nearly losing consciousness as weakness consumed him. He was being stubborn and a fool, and he knew it. "I am sorry, my Lord," Haldir whispered, "I...I am sorry."

"Rest, Haldir. Just get a little more rest."

Haldir nodded, allowing Celeborn to help him back to his cot. "You'll wake me, if there is news?" Haldir's eyes were glossy, the short time on his feet had exhausted him, "Could you send for Silraen? Could you ask her to sit with me for a while? She might be in the fields."

"I will fetch her," Celeborn said indulgently, "You just rest."

* * *

Silraen scrambled over the rough black rocks, glancing back to check the angle of the sun. She liked scouting ahead, liked the quiet and the routine, one foot in front of the other, check the sun, check the weather, check the course. They were several days behind where she wanted to be by now, and she sighed, knowing she would have to readjust her timeline accordingly. It was going to be another month, if not more. They were going to run out of food, there was no getting around that dire fact. She sat down on a larger rock, pulling her legs up to her chest and trying to think of some way to shorten their road. But, she knew, there was no other way.

Silraen's head shot up and a wide grin danced across her mouth. She could hear Haldir, the gentle hum of his deep voice whirling about in her mind like wind-caught leaves. She heard one word in a thin whisper...it was her name.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," she whispered back, and wished with all her heart that he could hear her.

* * *

Thank you so very much to my reviewers, eyes of sky, rohannion, moonbunny77, TigerLily, sar, and Puxinette. You guys always keep me going! Thanks!


	14. Arrows

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1

**Chapter 14: Arrows**

Taurnan rolled over on his stomach, peering between the blades of thick grass, looking for ants or slugs or something interesting. Nothing. His bright blue eyes were drawn up to the shining green and copper body of a grasshopper. He rose to his knees, reaching forward slowly, trying to capture the insect in his cupped palms. He gasped as it hopped away with a sharp clicking of its stiff wings. Taurnan bounded after it, weaving between the adults as they sat, attentively listening to his mother.

When Silraen had leaned back on a large boulder, addressing the group with almost apologetic seriousness, Taurnan's attention had wavered, as it often did. Now, as he stalked the elusive grasshopper, snippets of Silraen's speech reached his distracted ears.

"...as we turn toward the mountains. The trails will be rough and steep, we might even see snow. Just be careful and stay together and we'll be all right."

Another voice piped up, it was Kihal, one of the soldiers who had been badly hurt and sent along, "Silraen, I don't mean to be difficult, but I have to ask; how close are we?"

"We're making good progress," Silraen said with a nod, "But I can't tell you how much longer because I just don't know."

It was a lie, and Kihal knew it. But, Silraen would not discourage them further with an answer. It was better to just keep quiet.

Taurnan had caught the grasshopper, finally, and he giggled as he felt it jump within the cage of his hands. He let it go, watching as the sun glinted off its faceted wings, but lost sight of it as it leapt away across the plains. Taurnan saw then that Silraen was watching him with an adoring smile. He grinned back and scurried over to her, falling against her side and hugging her waist. Silraen placed a hand on his head and announced, "I have a little treat for everyone. I managed to smuggle some honey cakes out of the kitchens as we left, and I think we should celebrate how well we have done and how far we have come already."

Pleased murmurs spread through the crowd. Silraen lifted Taurnan into her arms, even though he was getting a little too big for it, and carried him to the packhorse that carried the pilfered cakes. Orophin was standing beside the horse, balanced on one leg, a sleeping Danuriel in his arms.

"I'm glad you're walking a little," Silraen said, "But don't overdo it. I don't want you dropping my daughter."

"Oh, I'm fine," Orophin assured, rocking the baby softly as he leaned back against the horse.

"Are you in the mood for a treat?" Silraen asked as she set down her son and untied a sack from the horse.

"Exactly what do you have in mind?" Orophin asked with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

Silraen shook her head indulgently, "Sugar," she replied, handing him a cake.

Orophin's grin was nearly as bright as the noon sunshine they had been blessed with that day. The weather was pleasant enough to forget all the cold and rain they had endured before. The yellow of the grass had been replaced in an instant with a soothing green after the nourishing rains.

After she had distributed the candies, Silraen leaned back on the horse again with Orophin and sighed in contentment. Orophin was looking down into Danuriel's chubby face as he said, "I know you don't need me to tell you this, Silraen, but you're doing an incredible job. You were the right choice."

"I don't know," Silraen said, her body growing tense as she wrapped her arms around herself, "This has been the easy part. The mountains have little sympathy for the weak."

A silence hung between them as Orophin contemplated this statement. His green eyes lingered on the far horizon for a little too long, long enough that Silraen looked closely at his face, "What is wrong?"

"The sky," he said quietly, nodding into the distance, "Look at the sky."

Silrean could see then that the horizon was a deep gray-black, an unnatural color.

"Maybe it's going to storm..." Silraen murmured.

Orophin shook his head, "It's something else."

Silraen frowned deeply. "We need to get moving. We've rested long enough."

* * *

As the Lorien elves entered the maze of ridges and valleys in the Misty Mountains, that sunny afternoon became the faintest memory. Since then, an ashy, grimy darkness dominated the skies. The air felt stifling and close.

Though she did her best to hide it, Silraen's mood had darkened to the same hue as the horizon. Dire scenarios haunted her thoughts though she fought them constantly. It was the infuriating uncertainty that plagued her. Her husband, her brother, many dear to her were somewhere beyond the jagged mountaintops but there was no way for Silraen to know what had become of them.

She tried to check the direction of the sun, but could not feel warmth nor see light. As Silraen looked up at the sooty sky, a terrible thought entered her mind. _What if this darkness means it's over? What if it means they've already lost? How would we know? How long would it take for the evil ones to find us here in the remote lands? _Silraen knew it hardly mattered. They were elves and lived long. Evil would eventually catch them.

* * *

The same unnatural darkness had descended on Lorien and Haldir stared out the tent flap at the restless birds wheeling between the tree trunks. Many of the other injured had left this makeshift hospital, but Haldir remained. He slept a lot, ate little, and said less. He would stare sometimes at his chest plate where it now leaned against a tent pole, and felt naked without its comforting weight over his shoulders.

Haldir knew then that he had become as his father once was. All trace of the normal elf, all trace of youth was gone. He was a soldier now, to his very core. He had not set out for it to be so, it just happened. Even if, years from now, his armor was packed away in a trunk somewhere, aged and forgotten, he would still be wearing it. He would never truly be rid of it.

_Well, if the chest plate fits..._Haldir thought ruefully. He hauled his aching body from the cot and stood. He struggled with straps and buckles until his armor was in place. Itfelt like a cocoon around him that he could hide behind just enough to face the world outside his tent again. He saw a drop of dried blood on his wrist gauntlet, a perfectly round spot of deep brown. He rubbed at it, but froze as he wondered if it was his own blood...or his brother's. He closed his eyes as pain burst through his chest, with the same shattering intensity as the moment it happened. Would it ever get better?

"Captain, you are out of bed?" came a voice from the entrance to the tent. Haldir finally looked up from his stained wrist and found Galenos watching him carefully. It took only a moment's assessment for Galenos to see that Haldir's strength had returned to him. That was good, for it looked like he would be needing it again.

"Captain, a group of riders has arrived from Mirkwood. They have asked for you."

Haldir straightened the stiff armor plates that covered his body, taking a few tentative steps. He still limped from his leg wound, but he was mobile. He stepped outside, half expecting the sunlight to blind him, but finding the mid-day to be as dim as dusk. It was little wonder Haldir had found it so easy to sleep with no sun to keep him awake.

Haldir sensed then a strange thing. He could feel heavy, determined footfalls moving toward him, the movement of an elf too agitated to maintain the usual grace of their kind. Haldir spun just as the footsteps turned the corner around the tent. He was grabbed by the collar of his thick undershirt and given an insistent shake as a voice demanded, "Where is my sister?"

The blue eyes were a few shades darker, but their shape and their fire were identical to Silraen's. "Good to see you too, Belegant."

"Tell me where she is. These soldiers of yours say she is not in the city, where is she?"

Looking over Belegant's shoulder, Haldir could see Galenos approaching, his lip curled over his teeth, prepared to defend his captain who had just barely recovered. Haldir stopped him with a quick shake of his head. Belegant shot a sharp glance behind him out of the corner of his eye and released his brother-in-law with clear reluctance. A handful of Mirkwood warriors shuffled nervously behind also, reluctant to step between the two elves. Haldir was silent for a moment longer, allowing Belegant to calm, just as he often did when he argued with Silraen.

"She has left the city to take refuge in the mountains. She is leading the people of this city to a safe place."

"You allowed this?" Belegant growled.

"I suggested it."

"You are a fool. All things evil move now, it seems they emerge from the very soil to cause torment. And you sent her out to face that?"

"We have had two major attacks on our realm. It was no longer safe here. There were no options." Haldir looked more closely at Belegant, "I doubt his highness Thranduil sent you here to check up on your sister. Do you bring us news?"

Belegant's scowl clearly meant the topic of Silraen's departure would not be forgotten. But, knowing his duty, Belegant relayed his message. "We fought a great battle seven days ago in the forest and repelled our enemies. We fear those orcs that survived are coming here. They are few, but the Wraith leads them. No power we possess could even faze the creature. The Lady is the only being for leagues that might challenge him."

Haldir digested this information for a moment. "How many have you brought?"

"Only so many as we could steal horses for from the royal stables. The army of Mirkwood is on the march here as we speak. But, I don't see how they can arrive here before our enemies. We've been sent to warn you. You will be attacked before another day has passed."

"That's fine," Haldir said quietly, "We have little left to lose here. Galenos, see that our guests are given food and a place to rest. I must confer with our Lord and Lady."

He didn't want Belegant to know that he went also to find out what he had missed in seven day's seclusion. He felt shame at his weakness, that he had let grief so cripple him. He feared his warriors might never respect him again.

Celeborn looked up in clear surprise as Haldir entered the throne room of the Great Mallorn. Without preamble, Haldir said, "I don't know if you have already been told, but riders from Thranduil have come with a warning. The Wraith was not in the last battle here because he was leading an attack on Mirkwood. They turned their enemies aside, but Thranduil's commander believes they will be here at any time."

"Galenos has doubled the watch on the walls and sends mounted regiments out every other hour. Hopefully when they do come for us we will be ready. Are you sure that you're..."

Celeborn trailed off, and both he and Haldir watched as Galadriel brushed past him, out the door to the stairs. Her eyes were as glassy and opaque as marbles and she seemed drawn along against her will or thought. Haldir shared a look with Celeborn, whose eyes were narrowed with concern. They followed her, perplexed, as she went slowly down the stairs to the thick grasses below. Haldir almost felt silly, following her but not daring to ask what the blazes was going on.

When Galadriel reached the city walls, to their amazement, she gripped the weathered stones, her graceful palms forming around them as she pulled herself up. Her bare feet groped for footholds and slowly she climbed, her husband looking on anxiously.

Galadriel reached the top of the wall, then hauled herself up and stood. Celeborn could faintly hear her whisper, "You will not overpower me again."

The piercing scream of the Nazgul lord filled the valley with such sudden rage that Celeborn started. There was another sound, the whistle of arrows that was nearly drowned out by the indignant Wraith. Galadriel's hand shot up, palm out, as an arrow flew toward her face. The arrow pierced her hand, the arrowhead emerging from the other side and stopping a hairs-breadth from her mouth. A second arrow, bound for her heart, drove into the palm of her other hand, but she did not even flinch. She showed no sign that she even felt the shot, and Haldir thought for an irrational moment of the audacity of the two orcs who dared fire on the Lady.

As Celeborn climbed to the top of the wall, reaching out for her, she leapt, landing lightly on the ground below. She looked so white, contrasted against the dark orcish army as she walked toward them. It looked like a single dove against a backdrop of storm clouds.

Celeborn hit the ground with a grunt, feeling the impact up through his legs and spine, but ignored the pain. He ran for his wife as the Nazgul stalked toward her from the other direction. Galadriel's hands, still pierced by the slim black arrows, rose, one before her, one behind. Celeborn felt a force against the middle of his chest, strong and warm, holding him in place. "No!" he screamed, "Galadriel, no! Let me go!"

The Wraith howled in similar rage as he found himself unable to take another step. Galadriel moved forward on silent feet. The Wraith staggered, falling back as she advanced, powerless, pathetic. The elven warriors who crouched atop the city walls watched with the same awe and terror as the orcs they faced as the Nazgul was driven to his knees. The forest had fallen so deathly silent that Haldir could hear the clatter of the Nazgul's armor hidden somewhere in the voluminous cloak as he fell.

Galadriel hit her knees also and Celeborn's breath hitched. He struggled against the ancient, elemental power that bound him, fought on in fear for Galadriel though he knew it was hopeless.

Galadriel tipped forward, resting the sides of her hands on the ground and leveling her face with the earth. She whispered to it, whispered to the stubborn soil and stones, to this land that wished only to stay neutral as wars raged on top of it. She asked for help, whispering in a language few remembered. With some reluctance, a rumbling could be felt, faintly at first. The elves on the wall looked down as the vibrations rattled up the stones. Galadriel looked up, a glitter in her blue eyes so cold and so satisfied that several orcs stepped back in fear. The thick, black earth churned beneath the Wraith, heaving and crumbling around his boots with wild power. Then, it sucked him down, drowned him in a writhing mass of dirt as he flailed impotently to escape. As the earth settled over him, flat and fresh as if it had been patiently raked, the elvish army broke from their stupor and charged. The flowed around Galadriel where she kneeled, staring at the disturbed soil with no expression on her face.

Celeborn glanced for only a moment at his army, but all thought of them fled his mind as he was released from his wife's spell. He stumbled to her, falling awkwardly to his knees before her. He took one of her hands in his own gently, his fingers shaking.

"I have to..." he swallowed, his throat bone dry as he looked down at her, "I will have to break the arrows, they will not pull out any other way."

Galadriel was not looking at him, but stared down at her wounded hands. The soft waves of her yellow hair hid her face. Her hands looked so fragile and tiny, her palms traced with fine lines interrupted by the shaft of the arrows.

"Are you ready?" Celeborn whispered.

Galadriel nodded, tipping her head against his shoulder. It drew only the slightest gasp from her as Celeborn gripped the arrow and snapped it in half. Before he could hesitate, Celeborn pressed her hand to the ground and jerked the arrow free, the barely controlled power of his actions surprising Galadriel. Finally, her faced tipped up and she stared at her husband as he broke the arrow from her other hand. She gasped again, not at the pain, but at the single tear she saw slip down Celeborn's cheek and hang on the edge of his steely jaw for a moment. He was not looking at her, but concentrating so intently on her hands, his face was drawn tight in pain and fear for a wife he loved but could never truly understand.

A second bloodied arrow was dropped to the ground. "I'm sorry," Celeborn whispered to her, so quietly that she barely heard him over the sound of the battle across the field. Galadriel reached up, pressing her hands to the sides of Celeborn's face, her blood staining his cheeks. She kissed him, her eyes squeezed shut as she lifted higher on her knees, drawing close to his large body. A stray arrow drove into dirt inches from her leg, and a second whirred past Celeborn's ear. But, they didn't care or even notice. For a moment, all they cared about was each other.

* * *

Thank you so, so much to my reviewers ellfine, moonbunny77, Linny, eyes of sky, AnbuShinobi379, sar, and Puxinette. You are the greatest and I apologize again for a long delay. I'm so glad you're sticking with me! 


	15. The Divide

Author's Note: After a long hiatus, I've started writing again. Enjoy!!

**Chapter 15: The Divide**

Silraen opened one eye to a thin slit, knowing something was wrong. But for a disoriented moment, she could not name it. Then, she realized…the sun. It was beating down on her face, warm and unobstructed. The horrid clouds were gone. She rose groggily, her body sore from days on her feet and nights on the ground.

One of the women left on watch was sitting cross-legged on a boulder, scanning the horizon. Silraen greeted her quietly, "Ellor," Silraen motioned vaguely with her arm, "When? When did this happen?"

"About two hours ago." Ellor replied, "It started so gradually I did not notice at first. But, the wind picked up and it all broke apart and drifted away. It is like it was never here." Ellor paused, licking her lips anxiously, "Could…could this mean it's over? Could this mean they were victorious?"

Silraen felt hope flare within her but tamped it down, meaning to be cautious. "I don't know what it means. But, I do like it."

Silraen then went about one of her least favorite chores, which was waking the exhausted elves around her and getting them on the road. She knew they could just use half a day, even two more hours of rest to regain some strength, but they could not afford the lost time. Even now, as the gloom dissipated, Silraen could not help but look over her shoulder, haunted by the feeling they may be pursued.

For Silraen, waking Linaya seemed the cruelest of all. The mountains were no place for a pregnant elf. Silraen hesitated, looking down at Linaya for a moment. At Silraen's gentle shake, Linaya started awake, reaching to her side as she always did in an instinctive motion. Silraen frowned, wondering why she always did that. Linaya's stomach looked like it had expanded even further overnight and Silraen marveled at the fast growth of the child. _That is going to be one big baby_, she thought to herself.

Linaya sighed quietly. Every morning she awoke confused, not sure why she was on the ground, not sure why she was dirty and achy. And always she reached for Rumil, thinking as long as he was beside her, it was going to be all right. But she woke up alone. She felt more distant from him than ever over the past few days. It had to be the miles, the mountains that left her feeling so suddenly alone.

The climb was grueling that day, but Silraen noticed a spring in the step of the elves, including herself. It was the sun, which could seem harsh and unrelenting at times, but now felt only comforting, burning off all the vapors of anything evil. Silraen could feel a giggle bubbling up within her, and shared a smile with Linaya who walked beside her. Linaya returned the expression, but her eyes were a little bewildered. What was Silraen so happy about?

Silraen stopped so quickly that the horse grunted in protest at the sudden jerk on his bit. All the sunshine for a hundred years couldn't make her smile at that moment. She handed the reins to Linaya and took a few tentative steps forward. Peering over the precipice, she heard the wind whistle through the canyon with unnecessary fury and Silraen froze, almost angry at the canyon for…existing.

"I drifted too far east," she mumbled to no one in particular, pursing her lips at her own stupidity.

"What is it?" Linaya dared speak up from behind her, knowing those further back in line were wondering the same thing. Silraen looked back, watching the apprehension in the wide blue-green eyes of her sister-in-law. Silraen sighed, "I've made a mistake. I had hoped to skirt around this canyon, but well…here we are." Silraen took a step closer to Linaya and lowered her voice, "Move them all back away from the edge and start passing out food for lunch. Put a couple of elves on watch. I'll go down and scout for a path. Don't move until I return. Can you do this?"

Linaya nodded, pleased to be entrusted with these duties. She set off at once, but after a few steps she paused.

"Silraen. Be careful."

But, Silraen had already crawled over the edge and out of sight.

* * *

It had been three hours. Silraen was exhausted, her hands scraped raw by the rocks and the hem of her dress caked with mud. She tucked a few errant hairs behind her pointed ears and continued up the opposite wall of the canyon, breathing heavily. Despite her own discomfort, she was pleased to have found a wide path that switched back along the canyon wall. She was sure the horses could traverse it with minimal danger.

Silraen reached out, leaning on a rock for a moment to rest. The river that ran lazily along the canyon floor could be faintly heard and birds wheeled overhead on the wild currents, screeching joyfully. Silraen watched them, but then found herself scanning the opposite wall of the canyon, watching the caves and shelves and outcroppings that peppered the dark red stone. She jerked her head as she thought she saw motion on a large shelf of land. But, as she inspected the area with squinted eyes, there was nothing. She thought she smelled a hint of woodsmoke on a sharp gust of wind, but supposed it might have been forced down on a cross current from her own camp. Yes, it must be that, for there could be no one else here.

Unnerved, Silraen hurried up the winding path, wanting only to return to her family. This canyon felt ominous and she would be glad to leave it in her wake.

Taurnan was the first to spot Silraen as she emerged on the other side of the canyon and Linaya had to grab the overzealous child around the waist to keep him from getting too close to the edge. One of Silraen's fieldworkers was there to catch the coil of rope she threw and tie off the end to a sharp boulder. Silraen secured her end and ran lightly along the rope to join her comrades. She was beaming as she landed on the other side, "Problem solved," she said, but then met the horse's eye. "Except for you. You're still trouble."

The horse snorted indignantly.

Silraen had begun rounding people up to send them over the rope bridge. With the grace and balance of their ancient race thy skipped easily across.

Silraen glanced back and saw Orophin standing awkwardly on one leg, watching the other elves in anxiety. He was still unable to put weight on his broken leg for very long. Silraen approached him.

"I don't think I can do that," Orophin admitted quietly.

"You probably can't."

"So, I'll be going into the canyon?"

"You will be going into the canyon. But, I'll be going with you. It's just a few extra hours, nothing to worry about."

Orophin nodded, a look of forced confidence planted firmly on his face.

Silraen assembled a small group to lead the other horses. Most of the injured who had been sent with them were nearly healed and could cross the bridge with the rest of the group. Orophin was still too unsteady to risk it, to his deep embarrassment.

Orophin hopped obediently to his litter, feeling as useful as a sack of lembas being dragged around half of Arda. The camp had emptied quickly, and he sat alone. The sound of an argument caught his attention.

"No, Taurnan, you stay with your grandmother and your sisters."

"But I want to go with you and uncle Orophin."

"No, Taurnan, we will be back before it is dark. You go with them and wait for us like I told you. Is that clear?"

Orophin didn't hear the young boy's response, but soon Silraen had taken the reins and was leading him into the canyon. He assumed she had won the battle.

Orophin twisted around in his litter, making a face as he struggled to find a comfortable position from which to speak with Silraen.

"Halnorel has been quiet these last few days," he commented carefully.

"That is just fine with me, as long as she doesn't have anymore…visions." Silraen did not look back at Orophin, the topic making her uneasy. She made a great show of picking her way down the trail, hoping he would change the subject.

"You don't think it is special? What she can do? The things she can see?" he asked, always tenacious.

"No," Silraen said, her lips drawn to a thin line, "I don't see anything good about it. You saw the last episode she had. She went wild, she had no control over what was happening to her. All I know is whatever this is, it is hurting her. I hope she grows out of it."

"Do you think she could tell us…tell us what is happening back home?"

Silraen was quiet for so long Orophin thought surely she would not answer him. Then, she said in a controlled voice, "I could never ask that of her."

"Then why did you bring the Lady's gifts? The pitcher and the bowl?"

From his awkward position, Orophin saw her spine straighten.

"How do you know about that?" she asked in a dangerous monotone.

"They are on the same horse as my bandages. You believe in your daughter's talents more than you say, or you would have left them behind."

"No," Silraen insisted, "I dared not disrespect Galadriel by refusing her gifts. My daughter is a normal child. She will grow out of this."

Silraen fell silent, but after a pained exhalation, she said, "It's like I don't know who she is sometimes. I raised her, I carried her in my womb, I should know her better than myself. But, since the visions, I look in her eyes and my baby isn't there. I have never seen those eyes before."

Finally, mercifully, Orophin let the topic of Halnorel drop. He turned back, watching the rough canyon walls pass by him in the uncomfortable silence.

That same silence, growing ever more potent in the afternoon heat, was broken only be the scrape of hooves over stones for the next hour. Orophin opened his mouth, finally ready to apologize for upsetting her, when he felt his litter jump beneath him. In the next instant, he felt his rear impact the rough trail and the heel of his broken leg bounced off a rock. He managed to resist cursing and settled on a sharp groan.

Silraen turned and did the cursing for him. "I guess it was just one bump too many," she sighed as she surveyed the damage. The sides of the litter had splintered, and there was a tear in the canvas. The rest of the party had stopped and Silraen yelled to them, "The litter is broken. It will take me a while to fix. Go on up without us."

"We can wait for you."

"No," Silraen said firmly, "I want us all out of here, soon. Go on."

More quietly, she said to Orophin, "I don't like this place. The wind feels heavy. We are being warned to move on."

Orophin nodded, his green eyes troubled as they clashed with hers.

Orophin was tempted to argue that he did not need the litter anymore, but there was a tension across Silraen's shoulders and he knew she was in no mood. She helped him off to the side as the sounds of their departing companions faded away. Silraen dug through the ruined litter, trying to envision some way it could be salvaged.

"I'm sorry," Orophin said gently.

"For what?" Silraen snapped.

"I don't know. It was just too quiet and that was the first thing I came up with."

A slow smile spread across Silraen's face, "Apology accepted," she chuckled.

"Good, I feel better then. So, what's the damage?"

Silraen scowled tossing one of the splintered handles aside for good measure. "It's firewood now. Will you be all right here if I go look for a small tree to take down?"

"Of course." He watched as she dug a hatchet from the myriad of objects on his horse's back. "You know, I really think I'm ready to—"

"You're not ready to walk, don't even bother saying it."

Orophin watched her pick her way up the trail and stuck his tongue out at her retreating back.

* * *

"If you're sure that this battle was…you know, it, that the fighting is done, then I respectfully request to go find my wife and children." Haldir shifted from one foot to the other before Celeborn, rubbing one bloody, callused hand against his thigh. "My men too, now that Thranduil's army has arrived, they want to know…"

Celeborn's dark blue eyes were sympathetic as he said that single, liberating word. "Go."

"Thank you, my lord," Haldir said with a smile of relief, turning on his heel. His soldiers, who had been pretending not to listen, let up an unorganized cheer as they knew they could now bring their families home. Belegant fell into step beside Haldir, "I'm going with you."

"Have you cleared this with your King?"

"I cannot wait for him to arrive. If it means I lose my rank, I will deal with that upon my return. I need to see my sister and the children safe."

Haldir scowled, not impressed by the rebelliousness Belegant was known for. "Do you not trust me to care for my own family?"

Belegant just let a cold smile twitch across his lips, leaving the question hanging in the air between them. He turned, calling over his shoulder, "I have to sharpen my sword. Don't leave without me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Haldir growled under his breath.

Haldir saw then Thellendur watching him in silence. Finally, the seasoned elf said, "He will be good to have along, Haldir. He traveled those lands with Silraen in his youth, he may know a route she would take."

"He might well improve his attitude if he will be traveling with us." Haldir began walking to the armory, weaving around debris. Thellendur took a long stride over a charred beam, staying in step with his captain.

"Belegant doesn't answer to you and he knows it," Thellendur observed, "Is that not what bothers you so? You are used to being in charge."

Haldir came to a dead stop, prepared to defend himself while sternly reprimanding the other elf. But, he began walking again and with a pout he said, "Yes, that's exactly it." He stopped again, and Thellendur came to halt beside him. "You're right. And as long as he helps me find Silraen and my children and all the others, that is all that matters. I don't have to like him."

"No, you don't. But, he is family."

"He's my wife's family, not mine." Haldir's scowl deepened.

"It's not that simple and you know it," Thellendur said quietly, "And, here and now, he's the only family you have."

Haldir bit back a sarcastic reply as the full weight of that statement sank in. Though he considered his soldiers to be like family, Belegant was different. Belegant and Haldir had a single goal in common, to find what they had lost. It would do them little good to butt heads when they both wanted the same thing.

"Thank you, Thellendur," Haldir said quietly, "I will try harder to get along."

Haldir could only hope his brother-in-law would keep his priorities straight as well.

In less than an hour, they were underway. For the briefest moment, Haldir smiled, feeling his chest swell with happiness that he was finally moving in the right direction…toward Silraen.

* * *

Orophin watched Silraen whittle away at the end of a young green branch, fashioning a crossbar with great patience. "Can I help?" he asked casually.

"No," Silraen said without looking up, "I'm almost done."

Silraen stood and began lashing the parts together, her hands steady and confident. Orophin tried not to watch so intently, but she had such graceful hands, and her hair—

He tore his eyes away, suddenly very aware that they were the only two people in this canyon. He ripped out a blade of grass and began tearing it into segments with his fingernails, anything to keep him occupied. When the new drag was completed, Silraen helped Orophin rise and hobble over to it. He struggled to dull his senses, to be unaware of how good Silraen smelled and the feeling of a stray strand of her hair that tickled his cheek. But, just like every time he was near Silraen, he memorized the moment, filed it away with all the other things he shouldn't feel but did. A brooding silence descended upon them again as Silraen took up the reins.

They continued their descent into the canyon. Silraen listened briefly for sounds of the rest of their party, but surely they were long gone and nearly to the top of the other side by now. They were in the deep cool shadow of the canyon wall. Birds chirped from the scraggly trees growing out of crags in the rock. She tried to relax and dispel the tension in her chest. She exhaled a long breath, but gasped again as one of her feet slipped on the soft gray shale. Silraen twisted, trying to jump to higher ground, but she slid quickly, the ground giving way beneath her. The reins were torn from her hands. She did not hear Orophin yell her name. He fought to his feet as she tumbled down the rough canyon wall. She landed awkwardly in a crack in the stone, her head bouncing off of it so hard Orophin cried out again.

"Silraen?" he called, his voice ragged, "Silraen, please open your eyes. Please Silraen."

Her eyes fluttered open as she winced, looking around in bewildered annoyance.

"Don't move Silraen, I'm coming down."

"No, settle down, I'm all right." She struggled to sit up, but he could hear her moan sharply, "Just broke an arm is all." She dredged up a grin. "We make quite a team now, don't we, with only six working limbs between us?"

Orophin shook his head, furious at her for treating the situation so lightly. He yelled down, "I'll throw down a rope and we'll pull you up."

After several awkward attempts, Silraen managed to get a rope around herself so the horse could drag her up. Though she kept her bad arm tucked in tight to her body, she still struggled not to cry out as it was jostled in her ascent. The pain brought white flashes to the back of her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and shuffled her feet up the rock. When she neared the trail, Orophin left the horse and stumbled to her, lifting her up like she weighed little more than a child. He pulled her to him, breathing against her hair for one long moment. As he released her, she tried to meet his troubled green eyes, but he looked away, his face closed. "Let me look at your arm," he said simply.

Silraen was feeling sick and tired and could feel tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as he probed the ends of the broken bone. Her other hand was balled into a rock hard fist and she drove it into the rough trail as the pain intensified. "Stop," she said through clenched teeth, "I just need a second. Please just stop."

She could feel Orophin watching her now, now when she didn't want him to. She didn't look up, not even when he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "You are very strong," he whispered.

"No. That's not true," she glanced up at him then, for one long moment. Then she looked back down and said, "I'm ready. I'll be all right now."

"I'm going to have to set it," Orophin whispered.

"I know."

Before either of them could give it any more thought, Orophin grabbed her hand and pulled outward. The pain was blinding, wrenching, fiery. Then, as the ends of the break straightened, the pain eased. Silraen could hear a scream echoing back at her from the canyon walls and it took several seconds for Silraen to realize it was her own.

She fell back onto the ground, breathing heavy, studying the clouds. She did not watch as Orophin limped to the horse, digging through the packs for something to splint her arm. She just watched the white and blue of the sky. She studied the edges of the wispy clouds where they shared an ambiguous boundary with the rest of the heavens. She rested, waited and let someone else do the worrying for a change.

Silraen looked down and found a thickly wrapped splint over her arm. Orophin slipped a hand under her back and lifted her enough to wrap a sling around her neck. Silraen tried to stand, but he held her shoulder. "Not yet. You're going to rest here a few hours."

She opened her mouth to argue, but then laid back where she had been. Only days earlier she would have had the will to fight to her feet. But, weakness overtook her, and she lay in the middle of the trail, like a flattened stone warmed by the sun.


	16. Helpless

I am SO sorry I disappeared for so long. I was distracted and afraid I might write myself into a corner. I might still. We shall see. Enjoy!

Chapter 16: Helpless

The sky was beginning to darken when Silraen awoke. Her arm was sore, but so was every part of her body that had hit the rocks as she fell. She reached back and traced a lump that had formed on the back of her head, an ugly wince pinching her face. She was confused, could not remember what had happened, until she looked down at her broken arm where it was lashed to her body in a sturdy splint. She rolled her head and saw Orophin leaning on a rock nearby. In the time she had been out he had fashioned himself a new crutch that was at his side. He would be back on his feet soon, blessed with the fast healing of their kind. But, for now, he showed no desire to roam. He was turning her bow over in his hands, his boredom palpable.

"You can have it," Silraen groaned, "I can't do a thing with it until my arm heals."

Orophin blinked quickly and turned to her. "How do you feel?"

Silraen tried to sit but found that her stomach turned and the canyon walls around her had begun to spin. She managed to prop herself up on one elbow but didn't get any further. "Not good."

Orophin hobbled over and dropped to the ground. He cupped one rough hand like a visor over her eyes and watched her pupils. "You hit your head pretty hard, my friend. I think you're going to be feeling it for a while."

Silraen sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, "I believe that."

Orophin let the silence sit for half a beat before he said, "I'm going to ask you about something, ask you now while you're a little too delirious to side-step the question. Do you know where we are? Can you still find the valley you are looking for?"

Silraen half sat up again, pushing back her hair with her fingers. She pressed the heel of her hand against her eye in brooding discomfort, "Why the sudden doubt?"

Orophin held up his hands, "No doubt. I'm sure you wander better without a plan that most of us could with a map...I just want to know. If something were to happen to you..."

Silraen hesitated for a long time before she said, "It's turning out to be harder than I thought. But, I still think I can find it. I know where I mean for us to go. I see it, the path in. Every time I close my eyes."

Orophin waited for her to elaborate. He held his body very still, trying to hide his impatience. He wondered if she enjoyed the power she wielded with the keeping of this secret. As he opened his mouth to prod her further, Silraen cut him off.

"It is very far into the mountains where no one goes. There is only one way path in and only I know how to find it. It is by a flat rock and three tall pines. That's all I can say, I can't explain it any better."

Orophin watched as Silraen eased up further, crossing her legs. She set her hand in her lap, studying her upturned palm. She reached up and gripped the bear amulet around her neck, the one her father had bought for her in the south, "I went to that valley with my mother and father and my brother. I really thought we might stay in one place. I looked around me and I thought it really could be a home for us. That was all I really wanted. It wasn't until I met your brother so many years later that I got another chance at that dream."

Orophin felt a frown, felt a sad smile twitch at the corner of his lips but fought both expressions with determination.

"It wasn't long before my father said he meant to leave the walls and go for a hunt. We had everything we needed in that valley. But, he was restless. He was a fool, the same kind of fool I turned into. I confronted him that day, I knew what was in his heart. I told him I did not want to be uprooted anymore, I cursed at him for showing me the dream of a home only to take it away again. I was tired of wandering to satisfy his selfishness. I was angry and I let him go and hunt alone. He was attacked by wargs in the wilds."

Silraen let a bitter smile wash over her face, but her eyes were flat and cold as she looked up at Orophin, "Who was selfish in the end, hmm? Was it me or was it my father? Or were we the same?"

"Silraen, you can't—"

"No," she said, "No, don't do that. I don't need the platitudes today. He was just barely alive when I found him, tore up and bleeding. Next to that flat rock under those three pines. He was meant to die there because it was the threshold he would have crossed to his next adventure, had he made it that far. I guess he did. I guess he really was off to his next adventure."

The thick air between them pressed in on Orophin as he carefully weighed what he should say next. But, again, Silraen saved him the trouble. She nodded thoughtfully, her gaze still tethered to the past. "That valley is exactly what we need. I'm sure of it. I'm meant to find it again."

Orophin matched her nod. He still could not find the words to say to her, because there were none. So, instead, he just let his eyes fill with the sympathy and care that he could not form into speech.

Silraen glanced up and held his eyes for an instant. She tried again to rise and Orophin protested, "We should let you rest a little longer…"

"No, we've lingered too long already. We need to move."

The sound of rocks clattering down the rough canyon trail was so faint they might have missed it. But, Orophin ducked down without thought, urging Silraen back down and shielding her.

"I knew there was something down here. I could feel it—" Silraen hissed.

"Wait here. Do not move." Orophin drew away, retrieved a crutch and started down the trail. Silraen tried to find calm, tried to sit up, tried to see what approached them. Then she heard an unexpected sound…laughter.

"You are going to be in big trouble with your mother. Maybe I can hide you in my pack and she'll never know you came down here."

Silraen sat up fully and saw Orophin and Taurnan on the trail before her, matching smiles on their faces. Taurnan rushed to her, arms flailing with the untamed gait of a little boy. Silraen gathered him to her with one arm for a moment and then set him away, meeting his eyes.

"Tell me where you are supposed to be."

Taurnan hung his head, "Up there with grandmother."

"What is your grandmother going to do when she can't find you?"

"Worry herself half to death."

Silraen almost smiled at how well-trained Taurnan was but bit back the expression.

"You need to promise me you will never run off ever again and you will never disobey me or your grandmother like this again. Being naughty can get you killed out here, do you understand?"

Taurnan nodded.

"Look at my face and tell me that you understand."

"I understand Mama, I was just bored and wanted to have adventures and—"

"No more. Not another word. All I have to show for my adventures is this," Silraen jerked her splinted arm skyward and grunted at a spike of pain. "We are going back to camp right now."

Orophin stepped closer. "I don't know if you're ready to—"

Silraen shot Orophin a look that made the rest of that sentence shrivel in his throat. "March."

Orophin laid down in his drag without a moment's argument. Silraen pointed to the horse's back and Taurnan scrambled onto the animal as if the ground were stinging his feet. Silraen took the reins and began to lead the three errant males up the canyon wall.

Silraen looked at the narrow line of sky above, trying to gauge the time. It was deceptive, the depth of the crevasse obscured the slanting light. Bats were beginning to dive over the surface of the river after the gleaming insects that hovered there. The deepening shadows drew Silraen's stomach into a knot. It was too late, they shouldn't attempt an ascent now…

The climb was difficult and Silraen had never felt more grateful for the horse. He was steady and warm as she pressed a hand against his neck and paused for what felt like one of one hundred breaks. Most of the switchbacks were too narrow to get the horse and the drag around the corner, and after much frustration and arguing, Orophin spent most of the ascent limping along with her. They were a sight. Dusk was falling as Silraen looked up and could see the last stretch of the trail above her, faintly hear the voices of their friends. Those voices soothed her and she thought she might float to the canyon edge. Orophin peeked around the pile of provisions and his nephew on the horse and watched Silraen. She was swaying, pivoting from where her feet seemed rooted below her. Her eyes regained their focus as she suddenly seemed to remember where she was, gripping the horse's neck and leaning against it. Orophin looked down into the jagged rocks far below them and said, "All right, that is enough of that. You are about to fall again." He limped to her, grunting like a tired mule. "Sit. On the trail. Now."

"We're almost there…"

"Sit. I am going up there to get help and you are going to be carried the rest of the way."

"I should be the one getting help so you can be carried..." Orophin didn't stick around to hear the rest of that predictable sentence. He started up the trail, at times bracing himself with his hands and going on all fours for the last push to the top. He kept glancing down at Silraen to ensure she did not try to follow him. It was in one such moment, as their eyes held that they both heard it. Halnorel's scream.

The canyon acted as an amplifier, repeating the horrible noise of screaming children and orcish calls, weaving the sounds around Orophin and Silraen like a net of echoes. Orophin found himself unarmed, frozen for one moment before he half ran half fell back to Silraen. "Stay," he grunted, looking up for a second to Taurnan, who clutched the horse's mane, "Just stay." He was reaching for her bow, his sword, wrenching the strap of a quiver over his head. Silraen was trying to stand, frantically rasping, "I can't shoot…I can't use my sword. I…"

He looked down at her, his green eyes hard. They lost their edge for one moment as he pulled the dagger from his belt and pressed it into her hand. He looked down at the dagger, their joined hands, then back into her eyes. "Stay here. We need you to guide us, you must stay safe. Please. Please don't move." His eyes were searching, imploring her to obey. Before he could sense her answer, he bolted over the rocks and to the battle.

Silraen was choking on her impotent frustration, fighting back tears as she reached up with one arm and gathered Taurnan to her. A limp body flew from the sky above her, a flash of gray cloak, fletched arrows and blond hair, then blood as it bounced down the rocks before Silraen. She pressed Taurnan's face into her neck so he would not see but she could not bring herself to look away. There was nothing more unnatural than the glimmer of an elven life being extinguished, stolen, swallowed up by a chasm of rock and violence.

Taurnan was shaking and Silraen thought that surely his life was too new, he was too young to have seen the things he had seen. The feeling that it was all unfair, all wrong assaulted her again. She shuffled on her knees to the side of the trail, to a cleft in the rocks that was the perfect size for her son. His whimpering grew more insistent as she tried to set him there.

"Orophin said to stay. Please don't leave me here. Please."

A deeper wince, gritting of her teeth but Silraen was able to force out, "I'm just going to see if I can help. You will be strong and wait right here until I come back. Here," Silraen reached up and drew the old copper amulet from around her neck. She held it out and Taurnan took it in his small hands, studying it with reverence. For a moment, he was distracted from his fear. "Do you see the stone at the bear's heart? It gives the bear his strength. You have strength in your heart, Taurnan, just like this bear." She tapped a finger against his thin chest, "Right here. Now, stay, be quiet and wait for me." Taurnan gave her a tearful nod, his glistening eyes serious. As she turned away, without thought, she said, "I love you, Taurnan," and saw him pulling the cord of the amulet over his fine hair and around his neck.

As Silraen reached the last moment of protection from the canyon wall, she heard rough shuffling steps above her as an orc stumbled and fell toward her. It spun over the edge with two of her own arrows deep in its neck. She sidestepped and it tumbled behind her. She scrambled behind some boulders, finding others shielding themselves there. Silraen took one quick glance around the rock and could see Orophin, the other injured warriors, and whoever else had had the presence of mind to take up arms finishing off the last of the orcs. Their enemies were beginning to scatter, and the warriors were struggling to pick them off as they spread in all directions. The battle was thankfully at its end. Silraen leaned back against the rock, panting in relief, and closed her eyes.

Her eyes snapped open again as she felt a hand on her forearm. Linaya was there, looking at her with concern. "You are injured, Silraen."

"I'm all right, I just took a fall. Is it clear out there, do we have wounded?"

She saw her mother-in-law and many others emerging from where they had hidden among the rocks. She ran to them and wrapped her good arm around her girls. Orophin was close at her heels, helping his mother to her feet as best he could. "I didn't get them all," Orophin said quietly to Silraen, "Some of them ran. It was chaos."

"Those that escaped could tell others. We need to move. Do we have wounded? We need to get them patched up and mobile fast."

Silraen and Orophin set to checking on their group, relieved to find few injured. But, most were stealing glances at the canyon edge, thinking of what had been lost there, unsure what to do next. "I don't know if we have time to get the body," Silraen whispered to Orophin, looking up at him with uncertainty deep in her eyes.

"It depends on..." Orophin swallowed hard, "It depends on how far she fell."

Silraen nodded, drawing in a slow breath, "Taurnan is still down there waiting with the horse. I'll go down, send him back up, take the horse down and get the body. You keep them going away from the river, I'll catch up."

"No, it would be better if I take care of all of that, then I'll find you. You lead them on. I can catch up."

"Orophin, no, I'll go into the canyon and you can..."

Orophin stood fully, a head taller than Silraen, and closed his eyes for a moment as he fought for calm. With a voice that was deliberate, patient, he said, "We've been having the same argument across a forest, a plain and now a mountain range. You have to let me get back on my feet and you have to trust me."

Silraen let out a sharp sigh, her irritation evident. Why did he have to make her feel so foolish and irrational when she was just trying to do what was best for him? But, a part of her softened and she realized he was right. She had to quit trying to do it all alone, she needed to trust. "Go." she said with a shrug of feigned indifference, lifting an arm and waving it vaguely toward the canyon, "Go on."

The group was shaken and nearing panic. It was clear many had not completely recovered their center since the attack on the city and this latest incident had set them back to that place of fear and apprehension. Silraen threw herself into reassuring and bandaging and packing for quite some time when she finally felt a hand grip her shoulder. She turned and saw Orophin beside her, breathless, his eyes wild. "I thought you were bringing Taurnan up."

"Silraen, he's gone. I can't find him anywhere. I don't know if he ran...or if he was taken."

The words echoed to Silraen from a faraway place, from the lip of the well her soul was toppling into. She turned away, away from Orophin's gaze of fear and shame, away from up uplifted eyes of her daughter and the accusing eyes of Haldir that watched her only from her imagination. Her boy, taken? Her boy that she had left alone.

Silraen shook her head sharply, trying to chase from her mind the terrible images of her boy afraid, hurt, helpless. All anyone saw was one last flash of yellow hair as she disappeared from their view, on the trail of her son.


End file.
